Shadows of Healing
by PandaGirl2019
Summary: A continuation of "Echoes of Affliction" that picks up a couple of months after the story ends. What happens to those terrible memories, and what does healing really mean anyway?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:The memories/flashbacks in this story are basically missing scenes from Echoes of Affliction, but if you read this and haven't read that one, you won't be completely lost :) It will just seem more mysterious at first!

Steve rummaged in the bathroom drawer, looking for his comb. He was about to go pick up Evie and take her out for a drive to the end of the strip. Steve didn't think it was much of a date, but Evie liked to sit and talk underneath the stars. He figured he would do whatever she liked. She had definitely done plenty for him.

"Dad, have you seen my comb?" Steve asked Nicholas, who was just passing by the bathroom door.

"Have you checked your pocket?" Nicholas asked.

"Huh?" Steve turned to check the back pocket of his jeans and saw the comb. "Oh. Forgot I put it there."

"You and Evie got a date?" Nicholas watched, as Steve looked in the mirror and combed his hair.

"Sort of. Just a drive, but you know how she likes to sit there and stare at the sky at night. I wouldn't be surprised if she brought a telescope one day."

"Son, you say that, but you like driving out there too." Nicholas grinned.

"Yeah, I guess it's nice." Steve put the comb back in his pocket. "Plus, she could ask me to take her to the Moon, and I'd do it."

Nicholas chuckled. "Better watch it. If she stays out there staring up at the sky, she just might think of that!"

* * *

Steve knocked on Evie's front door, and her mom answered, a smile on her face.

"Hi there, Steve," Irene said.

"Hi, Mrs. Bailey," Steve greeted her. "Is Evie ready to go?"

Evie appeared next to her mom. "Hi!" she said. "I'm all ready to go. Mom, I won't be late," she added, turning to Irene.

"You two be careful and have fun," Irene said, as she waved to her daughter and Steve.

"Have a nice night, Mrs. Bailey," Steve said, as he waved back, and then got into the driver's seat of his car.

Evie slid in next to Steve and leaned over, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I've hardly seen you all week," she said.

"Just been busy with work and school," Steve said, as he started the car.

"Me too with school, but it sure feels good to be a senior, doesn't it?"

"Sure. It's cool." Steve pulled the car onto the road. "Hey, want to stop and grab milkshakes before we drive out there?"

"Sure. Sounds good, sweetie." Evie smiled.

* * *

_ Steve opened the door to the local floral shop. It wasn't a place he usually went, but he wanted something special for Evie. He was going to surprise her with flowers and ask her to be his girl again. He felt like he was ready for that. Steve knew he still had a long way to go, but he was feeling like there was a chance he could recover from his experiences._

_ Steve stepped inside the shop. He saw a clerk at the desk and noticed her name tag read, "Mary."_

_ "Hello," Mary said. "How can I help you?"_

_ "Um, I'm thinking about getting my girlfriend some roses. I guess roses anyway. I wouldn't know what else to give her," Steve said, looking at the flowers on display._

_ "Special occasion?"_

_ Steve shrugged. "Kind of. She's just been real good to me, and I want her to know that."_

_ "Then, you should try a pink rose." Mary smiled. "It's a way to show appreciation."_

* * *

"Oh, it's so beautiful out here tonight," Evie said, staring up at the stars, as she sat next to Steve on the hood of his car.

Steve was staring at Evie.

"What?" Evie asked, noticing Steve's eyes on her.

"I'm just thinking you're the one I think it beautiful."

Evie giggled, but still felt tears in her eyes. "Aw, you're so sweet," she said, touching his cheek.

Steve pulled Evie close to him and placed his lips on hers. Evie kissed back and pulled him closer, both of her hands in his hair. She lie back, and Steve kept his lips locked with hers, his hands holding her hips.

After several moments, Steve broke the kiss, and he rested his head against Evie's chest.

"You're an amazing kisser, Steve," Evie said, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek on top of his head.

"Only cause I'm with you, baby," Steve said, as he turned his eyes to the sky, then sat up. "Hey, isn't that a constellation you were telling me about once when we were here?"

Evie smiled. "So you were listening." She sat up next to Steve. "That's the Big Dipper."

"I love you, Evie." Steve smiled at her.

"I love you too." Evie turned to look at Steve. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How have you been doing lately with, you know, everything you're still trying to deal with?"

"All right, I guess. Better, I think. I talk to Laura every week, and she's been able to help me understand a lot."

"So you think you've been feeling better?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, what happened..." Steve trailed off, shaking his head. "That's never going to be okay, but maybe soon it won't affect me as much, you know?"

"That's a good way to think about it, sweetie. Do you..." Evie looked away, back at the constellation. "Do you still have the flashbacks?"

"Sometimes. But it helps that I understand what they are and why those memories are there. I think it helps that my dad and me are okay too. I really needed him to be beside me with all of that." Steve reached for and grasped Evie's hand.

"I know you know this already, but I'm so glad you got everything out in the open." Evie squeezed Steve's hand.

Steve took a deep breath. "Me too. I mean, I'm not saying it's not still tough, but facing it has taken the edge off a lot of the pain."

"So there's light at the end of the tunnel."

"Yeah, I guess you can say that. Once I stopped keeping so much to myself, it definitely did get less overwhelming. I'm still working on looking at myself in a better way. It's sure been a hard couple of months."

Evie nodded. "I know. But it'll get easier over time." She gave Steve's hand another squeeze.

"I hope so. But I don't know about easier, just maybe not as painful and maybe where I don't think so much about everything that happened."

"It won't affect you forever, baby. Not once you work through all of it."

"I'm glad you think so cause I'm not so sure yet. I don't know how much you can even heal after something like that."

* * *

"Good night, Dad," Steve said, as he passed Nicholas' bedroom on the way to his own.

"Oh, hi, Son. How was your date?" Nicholas asked.

"It was good. I think Evie and me are doing okay." Steve came all the way into the room. "Actually, Dad, I was wondering something."

"What's that?" Nicholas tilted his head, listening.

"Evie said some things. Not anything bad. It's just it almost seems like she might think that since I have been talking to Laura and-" Steve shook his head, sighing.

"Come sit down, Son." Nicholas gestured to a spot next to him.

Steve sat beside his dad. "I think Evie might believe things that I just don't about, you know, what happened to me."

"What do you mean?"

"She was asking me how I'm doing, which is fine, but then, she said things that make me think she believes I'm going to be just healed or something. Like it won't always affect me somehow."

"I'm sure she's just trying to encourage you. So what are you wondering then?"

"If I should be doing better than I am. I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't still hurt, you know?"

Nicholas rubbed Steve's back. "That's okay. I think, from what I can see, you're doing a lot better than you were, right?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I am. I mean, I'm coping better. Not having the flashbacks as much. Not feeling bad about myself or stressed and panicky all the time. Even sleeping better."

"See? You're healing. Don't second guess that, and I'm sure Evie doesn't expect you to be where nothing ever bothers you anymore."

"I hope not cause that seems crazy to me. I can't erase memories or feelings like these. They're always going to be there."

"I know, Son. And maybe that's what you should tell Evie."

"Thanks, Dad. You're doing better too." Steve grinned.

"I should hope so!" Nicholas patted Steve's shoulder. "I think me and you are doing great. It's late. We should both get some rest. You still been having nightmares?"

Steve stood to his feet. "Sometimes. I've been able to get back to sleep though without too much trouble."

Nicholas pulled back the covers of his bed, as he remembered a night just months ago when Steve had come to him panicking after nightmares he hadn't expected.

* * *

_ Nicholas felt someone shaking him. "Hmm?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed._

_ "Dad, help please!" Steve pleaded, and Nicholas' eyes popped open._

_ "What's wrong, Son?" Nicholas sat up, and he could feel Steve shaking, as he pulled his son down next to him._

_ Steve clutched his chest with one hand, breathing heavily. "S-scared, Dad," he managed to say, his voice stuttering._

_ Nicholas wrapped an arm around his shoulder and guided Steve's head to rest against his chest. "Just breathe slow. I've got you. You're safe."_

_ Steve's breathing slowed down, and he felt himself begin to relax. He took in one deep breath, then another._

_ "Were you having nightmares?" Nicholas asked, keeping his arm around Steve._

_ "Yeah. About Clara. I was fighting her and-and she wouldn't stop..." Steve paused, hearing his voice shake, and closed his eyes against tears._

_ "Shh." Nicholas secured his other arm around Steve. "You're safe now."_

_ "And then I saw her next to me... and she was dead."_

_ Nicholas rested his head on top of Steve's. "I'm so sorry, Son."_

_ Steve buried his face in Nicholas' chest. "And then you were there, and I called for you..." He choked on a sob. "But you couldn't hear me."_

_ Nicholas held Steve tighter, pulling him even closer. "I'm here now. You're safe. I promise."_

* * *

"Remember I'm still here, if you need me," Nicholas said.

"I know that, Dad. I promise I do. You tell me all the time," Steve said.

"I don't ever want you to forget it. That's all. Good night, Son."

* * *

"I'm glad Mr. Coleman finally got this place up and running," Soda said, as he rolled out from under a car and tossed a wrench back into the toolbox.

"Yeah, the DX sure is bringing in a lot more business, being more than a little gas and service station," Steve said, as he let the hood slam shut on another car.

"That one done?" Soda started the car he'd been working on and listened for a moment.

"Yeah, just had to flush the transmission and add a little more brake fluid. Coleman told me he'd take me full time once I'm done with school." Steve wiped the grease off his hands with a rag.

"Of course he will, man." Soda shot him a grin. "Take a look at this one too, will you?" He gestured to the car he'd just turned off. "I ain't sure what else is going on with it. I keep adjusting everything, but it still doesn't sound right."

"Sure, man." Steve lowered himself down onto the creeper to slide up under the car. "Hey, you still going out with that girl tonight?"

"You mean Suzie? Yeah, I'm taking her out tomorrow night. You and Evie should double with us."

"Sounds good. I'll call Evie on break and see if she wants to go."

* * *

Nicholas sat across from Samuel at a small table in the back of a coffee shop. They had recently bumped into each other at the grocery store where Nicholas worked and had decided to meet for coffee.

"So, how you been lately?" Nicholas asked, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

"Pretty good. Still speaking at the church once in a while," Samuel said, adding sugar to his own coffee. "But it's been really busy over at the restaurant where I work. How about you?"

"I've been all right. Probably better than the last time you saw me." Nicholas shrugged. "Most of the time anyway. Me and my son, Steve, are still doing better.

Nicholas and Steve continued to grow closer, and he couldn't describe how thankful he was for that fact. Despite how much it had hurt him to face the problems, Nicholas believed their reconciliation started the second Steve confronted him about how he had dealt with the aftermath of the abuse he'd experienced. His son had shouted at him as his feelings finally erupted, making sure Nicholas knew those memories did matter. Those memories were causing him pain.

That moment was what both of them needed to begin being honest and deal with what had happened to Steve at the hands of a predator. Nicholas still didn't think he could ever fully make up for his own mistakes, but this father and son finally shared not only a traumatic, long-hidden past, but also the healing present and a bond bound by love.

"That's nice to hear," Samuel said, taking a sip of coffee. "Actually, I wanted to tell you something. I kind of felt like I intruded on your prayers those couple of times in the church."

"Well, you were there first!" Nicholas said, chuckling. "I think I intruded on your work time."

Samuel smiled. "It's just there was a reason I told you what I did the first time we met. A couple of reasons, really."

"You mean about forgiveness?"

Samuel nodded. "Your prayers struck a chord with me because I had a son, and I wish he was still here to forgive me."

* * *

"That was your third strike, man!" Soda yelled, as he gave Steve a high-five and picked up his bowling ball.

Steve sat down next to Evie, putting his arm around her. "Having a good time?" he asked, seeing Soda's ball knock down all but one of the pins.

Evie smiled at him. "Sure am. I like Suzie too. She's nice," she said, glancing over at Soda's date, who was watching him take his second turn.

Soda rolled the ball and knocked down the one remaining pin. Suzie then stepped forward to pick up her own bowling ball, and Soda watched her for a moment before he turned to look at Steve, who was sitting with his arm around Evie.

* * *

_Soda had finished his prayer to the night sky just minutes ago and still held Steve, though he had noticed his friend's sobs were growing quieter. "I know there ain't anything okay about any of this, but if coming here tonight and talking helped, I'm glad I was here. I know that was hard, and I'll help how ever I can, buddy," he said._

_ Steve took a shaky breath, lifting his head, but still holding Soda's shirt in his clenched fists. "It did, but I don't even know what else could help," he said, staring out into the yard._

_ Soda reluctantly released Steve and wiped his own eyes, but still kept a hand on his friend's back. "I wish I knew."_

_ Steve let go of Soda and stood up, running his hands over his face and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I don't know what to do, Sodapop."_

_ Soda also got to his feet. "Well, it seems like you're finally starting to get all of this off your chest after a real long time of keeping it to yourself, so I'd say that's something."_

_ "God, I hope so. I don't know how I ever thought I could forget." Steve leaned on the porch railing, feeling a warm blowing breeze._

_ "Maybe it was the only choice you had."_

_ "Yeah." Steve nodded, then turned to look at Soda. "Mind if I crash on your couch tonight?"_

_ "You know you don't even have to ask, man."_

* * *

Steve looked away from Evie and saw Soda's eyes on him. "What, man? You should be staring at Suzie, not at me!" he said, smiling.

Soda couldn't help smiling back at his best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicholas stared at Samuel, his eyes wide, not knowing what to make of what he'd just heard. What did Samuel mean he wished his son was still here to forgive him? What could he have done? Nicholas was afraid of the answer to the questions playing across his mind, but he asked his friend anyway. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"I had a boy named Matthew. He was three years old," Samuel said, glancing down at the table. "One day, my wife was out somewhere, and he was home with me. We were both playing in the pool."

"Okay." Nicholas gripped the handle of his coffee mug, still staring at Samuel.

"I got out of the water, and he followed me. We both went inside, and I don't even remember what I was doing. Something I guess I must've thought was important at the time. Anyway, when I turned around the next time, Matthew wasn't behind me anymore."

"Where did he go?"

Samuel looked away from Nicholas, noticing the coffee shop growing quieter, as if the remaining customers were all waiting in silence for him finish the story of loss that had nearly destroyed him. His eyes welled with tears, as he looked back at the man in front of him. "I walked around looking for him. I went back outside, and he was in the water. I pulled him out, but he wasn't breathing." He paused, taking a shaky breath, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what exactly happened. I guess I never will. I tried to save him. But he- he didn't make it."

Nicholas' jaw dropped, as he searched for a response, then he thought of Steve. "I'm so sorry. And you've heard me going on about my son." He ran his hands over his face, then let them drop back onto the table. "I'm just so sorry."

Samuel smiled a little, still blinking away tears. "I didn't tell you that to make you sorry. I just wanted you to know why I thought to tell you to ask your son to forgive you."

"No wonder you told me God could handle whatever I said to him. I can't even imagine what your prayers must have sounded like after that."

"I was angry at myself, angry at God, just plain angry at the world. I know it was an accident, but it took me a long time to forgive myself for not stopping it, for not seeing him walk away from me. It's been five years, and sometimes, I still feel that guilt rise up. Even worse than that, I just miss him so much. I'd give anything to have him here with me."

Nicholas sighed. "I lost my wife almost nine years ago, and it tore me up. Steve too. But to lose a child like that, I won't even pretend to be able to understand how that must feel."

"I wouldn't wish this kind of grief on my worst enemy. I've yelled at God, even screamed at him when the pain was so fresh and the guilt and anger were unbearable." Samuel's voice became quieter. "I thought it was going to kill me sometimes."

"What happened with Steve just a couple of years after his mom's death, well, it isn't anything like that, but I can relate to those feelings."

"I know. That's why I'm telling you. Your son's still here with you. So I want to tell you to treasure what you have with him."

"Oh, I am. Maybe one day, I'll be able to tell you what happened, then everything you've heard me say will make sense."

* * *

_"Mom, I really need to talk to you. I need to talk to someone, and I can't tell anyone else this." Evie told Irene, as she walked into her parents' bedroom and closed the door._

_ "Of course, honey. What's going on? You look upset," Irene said, patting the space next to her. "Come sit down."_

_ Evie sat down beside her mom. "Something happened with Steve," she said._

_ "Did you two have a fight?"_

_ Evie shook her head. "No, nothing like that. He's been having a hard time lately. He hasn't been himself, and he just told me why a few days ago."_

_ "Okay. So what's wrong?"_

_ "Mom, you can't tell anyone else, okay? It's not something he wants a lot of people to know. He hadn't told anybody before just this past week. Well, except his dad, but that's because-"_

_ "All right, I understand." Irene spoke in a soft voice, touching Evie's shoulder. "What happened?"_

_ "Steve was abused when he was a kid, and it's affecting him now. I'm really worried about him and about us." Evie felt tears well up in her eyes. "I feel sick just thinking about it. How could anyone hurt a kid? I had a hard time talking to him after he first told me because I didn't know what to say. We've been talking since though, and it sounds like he's so overwhelmed."_

_ "Aw, sweetheart. There may not be anything you can say right now. Just be there to listen to him if he wants." Irene reached over to wipe a tear from Evie's cheek._

_ "It's even worse because he had to go on and pretend like nothing happened then, but he must've been really hurt, or it wouldn't be bothering him now."_

_ "I'm sorry to hear anything ever happened to Steve. I know you care about him."_

_ "He didn't tell me too much, but the memories of it are really bothering him. He told me he had a panic attack, and I think that was what he had when I was with him last. He said it's like he's been reliving what happened too. It feels real to him."_

_ "Oh, that poor boy." Irene stroked Evie's hair. "Don't worry. I won't say anything."_

_ "Thanks, Mom. I'm just really worried, and I'm not sure what to do. It was a long time ago, but Steve just never got to deal with it. He feels so bad right now, and I'm afraid of hurting him more."_

* * *

Evie kneeled down in the garden next to her mom.

Irene glanced up, a shovel still in one of her gloved hands. "Hi, honey," she said, as she reached for some flower seeds.

"Will those even grow this time of year, Mom?" Evie asked.

"It's sunny enough, so might as well try. They won't freeze, at least." Irene covered the seeds with soil. "How was the double date?"

"Really good." Evie smiled. "We bowled a few games, then grabbed a bite to eat. I think Soda and Suzie really hit it off too."

"How's Steve doing?" Irene took the gloves off her hands, then started to gather her gardening tools and seeds.

"All right, I think. I'm not so worried about him now. I think counseling and all is helping him. He doesn't seem to be hurting so much."

Irene nodded. "That's good to hear. I'm glad you guys are getting another shot at being together. You both seem to really care about each other."

"We do. He told me he isn't sure how much you could even heal from something like what he went through, but I don't know. I think anything can heal, if you talk about it and give it time. The past doesn't have to haunt anyone forever."

Irene sighed. "Evie, I'd like to hope you're right, but try not to expect too much, sweetie. You didn't tell me a lot, but from what you did say, it sounded like things got pretty difficult for him."

"I'm not expecting too much. I'm just finally starting to believe that what happened to Steve when he was a kid doesn't always have to hurt him or our relationship."

Irene stood to her feet, walking toward the back door. "I'm just saying don't expect the healing Steve's started to do to be perfect."

Evie stood and followed her mom. "I get it, Mom. I won't."

* * *

Steve watched the road, as he drove home, his session with Laura still fresh in his mind. He knew counseling was helping, but there were days it felt like too much. He knew he'd never be able to do it, but sometimes, he felt like trying to hide from everything again.

The questions Laura asked and the insight she had could be intense because she, as a professional who had dealt with situations like Steve's before, thought of things no one else would. He had talked about so much that he never thought he could, especially with his dad. Yet, what Steve had talked about with Laura the last couple of times he'd seen her went beyond any of that.

Laura knew how to identify the layers of the abuse Steve had experienced, and she was helping him sift through the emotions and sensitive issues connected to each one. It kept getting clearer to Steve why he could have so much shame and confusion in his soul. Those feelings didn't seem to be dominating his mind so much anymore, but they still existed. He believed Laura was getting through to him, and so were the words his dad, Soda, and Evie had all said to him. Yet, he still shuddered when he remembered Clara's words and actions. He probably always would.

Steve still had the flashbacks sometimes, but they didn't seem nearly as strong. He had gotten better at coping with them and even identifying triggers that weren't always very obvious. Panic attacks also happened less often, and he was better able to breathe through them whenever they did. He believed all of it was simply less shocking and overwhelming.

Steve thought of what Evie had said about things getting easier over time and there being a light at the end of the tunnel. He rolled his eyes. He wasn't so sure about that, but at least he no longer constantly felt like a train of terrible memories was speeding toward him, making his emotions run off the track. He supposed he could see some light shining and trying to illuminate the hope he'd found in his progress toward recovery and the truths he'd tucked into his heart after plenty of reassurances. Still, those memories came along. They were there, and so were the accompanying tumultuous emotions. These together blocked the light he could see, making it cast only a shadow.

Steve had learned he could live with that though because it meant he had a chance. He knew if he and his dad could reconcile and confront the past together, anything could be possible. He had also never imagined he would go to Soda one night and spill his secret. He was so glad he had because that was definitely when he'd put himself on the right path, as unsure as he still was about where that path may lead him.

Steve pulled his car into the driveway and got out, then walked up to the front door, going inside the house. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his dad wasn't home yet. He settled himself on the couch and closed his eyes. He didn't want to sleep, but he did want to rest his mind for a little bit. He really needed that.

* * *

"You sleeping, Son?" Nicholas asked, as he peeked into the living room and saw Steve.

"Nah, just resting," Steve said, opening his eyes. "School felt awfully long today, and I saw Laura. You know how that can be."

"Yeah, I know. You okay?"

"Yeah, I think I'm all right."

Nicholas nodded. "Hey, want burgers for dinner? They overstocked on meat at the store, so I got plenty of it."

"Sure, Dad." Steve stood up and joined Nicholas in the kitchen, as his dad got out the meat and a frying pan.

Steve was standing near Nicholas when his dad turned to look at him, setting the pan down on top of the stove. He stared for a moment, his eyes softening.

"What, Dad? You okay?" Steve asked. "You look like you're about to cry."

"Yeah. I'm okay. I just-" Nicholas sighed. "I wanted to tell you something."

"All right. What is it?"

"Well, I saw Samuel yesterday evening. We met for coffee."

"You mean the preacher guy?"

Nicholas cracked a grin. "Yes. The preacher guy. We sat and talked and-"

Steve's voice became hard."He have more great advice?"

"Huh? Why do you say it like that?"

"Well, that's basically what you told me before about him when you told me about how you went to the church and prayed and all that. What did he say this time?"

* * *

_"Since you told me about going to the cemetery, I guess I should tell you something I've been doing too," Nicholas said, as he drove in the direction of the cemetery where Rose was buried._

_ "You find somewhere to go alone too?" Steve asked, holding the white rose his dad had gotten to leave on his mom's grave._

_ "Pretty much. Only it wasn't to be alone completely. There's a church your mom and me used to go to, and I've been there a few times lately."_

_ "You mean for services?"_

_ "No, I mean just by myself. I've gone there to pray. It's helped sometimes to be able to just say whatever I was thinking or feeling out loud to God. Not holding anything back, you know? And not having to worry about what I'm saying or how because no one else is listening."_

_ "Oh." Steve nodded. "That's good. I guess." He glanced out the window, thankful they were close to the cemetery._

_ "Except a couple of times, someone else was there. A preacher named Samuel. He's a really nice guy, I think. I didn't even mind that he heard me." Nicholas grinned."He actually had some good things to say and advice that made a lot of sense."_

_ Steve looked down at the white rose. "That's real good, Dad." He tried to smile. "But we're almost there, so can we not talk about anything right now?"_

_ "All right, Son." Nicholas glanced over at Steve. "You okay?"_

_ "Yeah. I'm fine."_

* * *

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Why does this offend you so much? I never even told you what he said then."

"Never mind, Dad. Hey, you going to cook or what? I'm getting hungry," Steve said.

Nicholas picked up the package of meat and started to open it, then paused, placing it back on the counter. He turned back to Steve. "You know what? It can wait. I wanted to tell you something."

Steve shook his head. "I don't want to talk about Samuel or any of that." He went over to the refrigerator and opened it.

"It wasn't about him. What he told me yesterday just made me want to say-"

"No! Stop!" Steve slammed the refrigerator door. "I don't want to hear any of this. I really don't!" He spun around to grab his jacket that was hanging on a chair.

"Son, what's wrong?" Nicholas watched Steve put his jacket on. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back in a little while. I just need a breath." Steve pulled open the door and walked outside.

Nicholas walked over to the window, watching Steve get farther away from the house, as he headed down the street. "What did I say?" he wondered.

* * *

"Hey, Steve. What's up?" Darry said, when he saw Steve come inside the house.

"Not too much. Just came by to talk to Soda," Steve said.

"Yeah, I figured." Darry grinned. "I think he's in his room."

Steve nodded, heading down the hall. He walked past the room that now only belonged to Pony and saw Soda's door was slightly open. "Sodapop?"

"Hey, man!" Soda said, grinning and setting down the magazine he had been looking through.

"You look like you're enjoying having your own space now." Steve stepped inside the room and sat next to Soda.

"I think Pony is too, and I'm still close enough if he needs me."

"And to think I used to not get why the kid couldn't just sleep by himself at night." Steve shook his head. "I sure do now."

"Not that you need a reason, but what brings you by?"

"I just kind of got mad at my dad, but you know what? He didn't even do anything. It ain't really him I'm mad at anyway."

"So who are you mad at?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to talk about something, and instead of just telling him that, I started acting like a jerk. I don't even know what he was about to say cause I didn't give him a chance."

"So go talk to him and apologize. You guys know how to work things out now."

"I know. I will." Steve got up and closed the door. "It's just that there's something else I was wanting to tell you about too."

* * *

Nicholas finished frying up the hamburgers and placed them all on a plate. He looked outside, hoping he'd see Steve soon. He kept replaying their conversation over in his head, as he set the plate of food down in the middle of the table and grabbed a burger for himself, putting it on a bun.

Nicholas glanced out the window once more, remembering Samuel's story about Matthew, as he spoke in a soft voice. "I just wanted to tell him I love him. That was all."


	3. Chapter 3

"You and Steve make such a great couple. So cute," Patricia said, as she took a bite of ice cream.

"Yeah, I guess we are," Evie said, as she smiled and ate some of her sundae.

"I was worried about you two for a bit there."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I knew something was going on, remember? You nearly fell all over that guy at the bowling alley that time, then not long after, you said you guys got in an argument."

"Oh. Yeah." Evie put her spoon down and picked up a napkin to wipe her face.

"Then, it seemed like you hardly ever saw each other anymore. I think some people thought you broke up for good since you didn't say much about him for a while."

"No, we never did. We, um, just hit kind of a rough patch."

"Yeah, that's what you told me then. That you guys both needed space." Patricia finished her ice cream and started to look through her purse.

"We did, but I think we're good now. Sorry I was so vague about everything then. It was just kind of private." Evie finished her own ice cream, putting the spoon in the empty bowl.

Patricia pulled some change from her purse, counting the coins. "Oh, no, that's fine! Don't apologize. I'm glad you guys are doing better, whatever was going on." She smiled. "Steve seems like a decent guy, and you were awfully upset that day you guys argued. It's nice to see you happy."

* * *

Soda sat up straighter, looking at Steve. "Okay," he said. "What's on your mind?"

Steve sat down next to him and took off his jacket, keeping it in his lap. "It's one of the things Laura and me have talked about lately," he said, before pausing.

Soda nodded. "Keep going. I'm listening."

"I know. It's just overwhelming. That's what I've noticed about this. It can be overwhelming, even though it still helps me. Anyway, I've always thought of what happened with Clara as something bad obviously."

"Sure. There's no other way to see that."

Steve eyed the closed door. "Yeah, and then I got to thinking of it as" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before continuing. "sexual abuse."

"Yeah. What else would it be?"

Steve fidgeted with the jacket's zipper, looking down at it. "I hadn't thought of it before because it just seems like there ain't anything else that matters, but there is something else."

"What do you mean?"

"Emotional abuse. It's that too." Steve looked up, his eyes meeting Soda's.

"You mean because of what she would say to you?"

"Yeah." Steve's voice became quieter. "Because she would threaten me about telling my dad, and she made it seem like what she was doing was my fault. I didn't get that idea all by myself."

"She manipulated and used you, man."

"Exactly. And she scared me just because she wanted to hurt and confuse me even more than she did just by..." Steve trailed off, biting his bottom lip.

Soda put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Steve, you don't have to keep going. I get it."

"I'm not done though." Steve shook his head, fidgeting with his jacket again, clenching it in his fists. "I knew a while ago that she hurt my dad too because of what she did to me, but talking about the emotional abuse part, that makes me see how even more."

Soda tilted his head to the side, his eyes not leaving Steve's face. "Why's that?"

"Cause it makes me think about how nice she was to me a lot of the time and how she was always nice to my dad. Like she really cared about me and about him, you know? But all she wanted to do was hurt both of us, and she probably wanted to drive us apart from the start. Playing nice and making me like her, making my dad care about her so he wouldn't see what she was really doing, that was all just part of the abuse."

Soda squeezed Steve's shoulder. "So are you telling me it's a good thing you're seeing all of this?"

"Thinking about it like this kind of makes it hurt more, to be honest, because she should've cared about me and even acted like she did. But, yeah, I think so. It makes me understand more about what's been in my head and how I've felt. No wonder I got so damn confused and wouldn't tell anyone what was happening." Steve let out a breath, letting himself relax. "And no wonder it was still hard when I heard she died.

"That's a lot to work through, buddy. You okay?"

Steve grinned. "I think I am. Not perfect, but I think so. I was talking to Evie the other night, and she said some things that made me wonder if she thinks that I'm going to be better than I can even think of being. Like I'm going to say 'Okay, I talked about all of it, so bam! I'm good now.'" He shook his head, then spoke in a soft voice. "But it ain't like that."

Soda raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. It ain't magic."

"And if it were, I'd have waved a wand and made every memory of this shit disappear a long time ago! There would be nothin' left of it." Steve pulled his jacket back on. "I'm going to go. I need to talk to my dad."

Soda clapped Steve on the back. "Good. You should. Night, man."

"Night." Steve started to leave.

"And Stevie?"

Steve turned back to look at Soda. "Yeah?"

"Please don't worry. You're doing great." Soda grinned at him.

* * *

"I'm sorry I snapped at you like that, Dad," Steve said, coming in and sitting next to Nicholas on the couch.

"Did something I mentioned bother you? Cause, if it did, I had no idea, I swear," Nicholas said. "I wouldn't-"

Steve put a hand up. "I know. And it's not your fault. There are just certain things I don't want to think about yet, and I kind of had a tough afternoon. Can I explain later?"

Nicholas nodded. "Son, I really just wanted to tell you I love you. That was all. And the rest..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I'll tell you another time."

Steve sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "Aw, man. I really did act like a jerk." He looked back up at Nicholas. "I'm sorry and I love you too."

Nicholas smiled. "Not like I haven't been a jerk plenty of times. I saved you some dinner. There's a plate already made in the fridge."

* * *

"How's your day, sweetie?" Evie asked, as she came to stand next to Steve at his locker.

"It's going all right," Steve said, grabbing his math book and slamming the locker shut.

Evie leaned to kiss Steve on the cheek.

"Aw, you two are adorable!" TwoBit said, as he came up to them.

Steve rolled his eyes. "What's up, TwoBit?" he asked.

"Nothing much. I actually went to class and paid attention," TwoBit replied, grinning.

"Keep it up, and you'll graduate with us in the spring," Evie said.

"Man, I don't know. I might stick around a while longer," TwoBit said, then thought for a moment. "Seriously though, I'm doing all right. So I might."

Steve grinned, tossing an arm around Evie. "Man, you should really go for it. You can make it."

"What? No smart ass comment?" TwoBit said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nah, not right now," Steve said, shrugging.

"Tuff enough," TwoBit replied, before starting to make his way down the hall. "I'll see you later, Steve! You too, Evie!"

"See you, man!" Steve said.

"No teasing, huh? That was nice of you to say," Evie said.

"TwoBit's a good buddy. Besides, I know what it's like to need a little bit of hope tossed your way."

"That's sweet, Steve."

"Just the truth. Hey, we still on for Friday night?"

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

"Hey, Steve!" Soda greeted his friend, when he saw him hurry through the door of the DX station.

"Hey! What do I need to do?" Steve asked, as he punched in. "Any cars to finish up in the garage before you have to split?"

"Nah, done all I could today. We're waiting on some parts to come in."

"Good. I hope I have plenty to do come the weekend."

"I'm going to go in the back and see if there are any extra cups for that drink machine, before I have to get out of here. Darry should be here in a few minutes." Soda went through a set of doors.

Steve straightened his DX cap, watching the gas pumps. "Come on, people. I've having a day when I need to be doing something," he mumbled.

"What was that, man?" Soda asked, as he returned with several stacks of cups.

"Nothing. Are you sure there's nothing I can do in the garage?"

Soda shrugged. "I wouldn't stop you from looking. I'm going to go put these out." He headed over to the drink machine.

Steve went through the door that connected the store to the garage, then walked up to a blue Ford. He popped open the hood, looking for anything he could adjust or fill. "I don't even know what I'm doing," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing away from the car. "That's the one that was sounding funny the other day. I think it needed a new water pump."

"You're right. It does," Soda said, peeking inside. "I took a look after you said you thought that was what it sounded like."

Steve shook his head. "I don't know what I'm doing in here." He went back over to the Ford and closed the hood.

"You like working on the cars. Man, I do too."

"Well, yeah." Steve followed Soda back inside the station. "But I'm really itching for something to fix right now. It's making me antsy."

"I think I get what you mean." Soda looked over and saw a woman come inside. "Hello, welcome to the DX." He grinned at her.

She nodded at him, then made her way over to the shelf of candy and snacks.

"You going to be here after school tomorrow?" Soda asked, turning back to Steve.

Steve nodded. "I'm wanting to get in as many hours as I can this week. I've noticed it's real good to stay busy somehow. Last thing my head needs is time to wander." He glanced out the window, seeing a couple of cars lined up by the gas pumps. "I'll be out there."

* * *

"What are you writing, Mom?" Evie asked.

"Schedule for this weekend for me and your dad," Irene said, from the chair at her desk.

"Oh? What are you guys doing?"

"We're going to drive up to the mountains for a couple of days. Early anniversary trip, I guess you could say." Irene look up from her paper. "You good to be by yourself here Friday and Saturday night? We'll be back Sunday."

"Sure, Mom. Go. Have a good time."

* * *

"See you tomorrow, Soda," Steve called, from his spot next to the gas pumps, as he saw his friend getting into Darry's truck.

"See you, Stevie!" Soda called back, as he shut the passenger door.

"How was your day, little buddy?" Darry asked, starting to pull out of the parking lot after waving to Steve.

"Pretty good, Dar," Soda said.

"Steve looks like he's doing all right."

"I think he is. He was telling me some stuff a couple of nights ago, and it sounds like the counseling is real good for him. Also sounds hard, but when would anything like that be easy?"

Darry nodded, his eyes on the road. "It can't be. Damn, I still think about the day he had that panic attack at our house. Even if I hadn't already known something was wrong..."

* * *

_"Hey, Steve, can you hang on a minute?" Darry asked, as Steve was walking across the porch._

_ "I guess," Steve said, pausing on the steps._

_ "Sit. I've got something to tell you." Darry sat down on the top step._

_ "Darry, you really don't have to-"_

_ Darry held a hand up. "Stop. I'm not bringing up what you told me. I just know something that might make you feel better about today."_

_ Steve sighed, sitting down beside him. "I hated that today. No one was ever supposed to see me like that, but everything lately was never supposed to happen." He looked down at his feet._

_ "That's why I have something I want to tell you. What you had today was a panic attack. It can happen to anybody."_

_ "So what's that mean?" Steve looked up at Darry._

_ "You're under a lot of stress, and your body reacted. That's all."_

_ "That's all, huh? I freaked out and couldn't breathe cause TwoBit spooked me. Well, not really cause of him. I'm so jumpy lately, anything could've done it."_

_ "It's just because you're real anxious, man. I can't blame you either. My mom's aunt had attacks like that."_

_ "Do you know why?"_

_ Darry shrugged. "Never asked. But I was there and saw when my mom would help her through them. That's how I knew how you should breathe."_

_ "Oh. That did help me calm down. I think if everyone else had just freaked out, it would've gotten worse."_

_ "Probably. Glad I could help." Darry reached over and squeezed Steve's shoulder. "So don't be embarrassed. We're all family here."_

_ "Thanks, Superman."_

* * *

"I think that was what he hated about that. Especially when he wasn't used to anyone knowing about what happened," Soda said, interrupting Darry's thoughts.

"Yeah, I got that idea," Darry said.

"I think Steve's doubting if he's doing okay enough or not, and I ain't an expert here, but there's no way he's just going to be suddenly..." Soda paused, looking at Darry. "What's the word I'm looking for?"

"Recovered?"

"Yeah! Or healed or better, like there was never a problem. I mean, if all that time going by didn't make what happened not affect him, it would seem crazy to think he's going to be good so fast."

* * *

Evie sat in her history class, pencil in hand, as her teacher talked about the First World War. She wrote a few notes, then he mind drifted to Steve. We should have a different kind of date this week, she thought.

Evie went back to writing her notes, then she glanced over at Patricia. She's right, she thought. Steve and me do make a great couple, and we are doing better. Evie smiled, thinking she should do something nice for Steve. They hadn't gotten to do much for his birthday, after all, and he sure had been through a lot.

The bell started to ring, and Evie closed her notebook and put her history and math textbooks on top of it, as the rest of the class was jumping up out of their seats.

"You going to walk with me, Evie?" Patricia asked, coming to stand next to her friend. "What are you thinking about?"

Evie got to her feet, picking up her purse and books. "Just my date with Steve tomorrow night."

Patricia smiled and started to follow Evie out of the classroom.

"You ladies have a good rest of your day," Mr. Johnson, the history teacher, said.

Evie looked over at him. "Thanks, Mr. Johnson. You too." She noticed what he was writing on the board. It was a quote from Thurgood Marshall that said, "Sometimes history takes things into its own hands."

* * *

_Nicholas had just dealt the cards for the first hand of rummy, and Steve picked up his hand. He stared at it for a moment, before looking at his dad._

_ "Before we play, I want to talk to you about something," Steve said, laying his cards down on the table. "It'll only take a minute."_

_ Nicholas laid his own cards down and focused on Steve. "All right. What's on your mind?" he asked._

_ "I know I told you what Laura said about the memories being so strong that they're flashbacks, but I didn't really finish. She said it's like I'm re-experiencing what happened. That's what the nightmares are too."_

_ Nicholas laid a hand on Steve's arm, keeping it there. "That definitely is what it seemed like."_

_ Steve shivered, then felt his dad squeeze his arm. "Yeah, it's like my brain really believes it's happening all over again, so it reacts. But she said it's just my mind trying to process all of it."_

_ "Makes sense, Son."_

_ "I want you to know too that she said they aren't happening just because you didn't let me talk then."_

_ Nicholas looked down at the table, studying the backs of the cards that lie on it. "I can't say I don't still feel bad." He stared directly into Steve's eyes. "But that does help a little bit. What can I do?"_

_ "Like I told you before. Help me stay in the present as much as I can. You can stay close and just talk to me." Steve grinned. "Kind of like what you've been doing a lot anyway."_

_ Nicholas released Steve's arm, but kept his eyes on him. "Talk about what though?"_

_ "Ask me what I see, what I hear, what I can feel. Talk about anything that's around. It's supposed to help remind me there's nothing that's happening again."_

_ "Sounds simple enough. You know I'll do anything I can to make it easier."_

_ "I do know that." Steve picked up his cards. "Okay, that was all I wanted to talk about. Let's play."_

* * *

Steve had his eyes on the board in his biology class as his teacher, Mr. Grant, wrote down specific points about DNA and genetics. He picked up a pencil and jotted down a few notes:

recessive vs. dominant genes, X and Y chromosomes, inherit mixture of parents' DNA, genetic traits.

Steve had found he hated being alone when any sort of flashback or panic chose to strike, but the idea of being in a classroom full of peers was so much worse. He gripped the pencil in his hand more tightly, focusing on Mr. Grant's voice and the sound of chalk moving across the board. He wrote down more notes:

blue, green, or brown eyes, male XY or female XX, which parent you look more like, DNA acts as a blueprint, storing information like a memory-effects physical appearance, behavior and personality?

Steve let his eyes drift around the room, relieved to see none of his classmates were looking his way. He glanced at the clock and saw the bell should ring soon to signal the end of class. He just had to get that far. It was the last class of the day.

Mr. Grant was writing a homework assignment on the board when the bell rang, and Steve didn't spare the class or his teacher a second glance, as he gathered his belongings and left the room. He needed a moment that he couldn't get in a group.

Steve stepped into the hallway and only took a few steps before ducking into a music room he knew no one would be using right now. He set his books down on the floor and collapsed into a chair. He covered his face with his hands and closed his eyes, as he drew in a deep breath.

"Come on. Focus," Steve told himself. "Nothing is happening right now. It's only memories."


	4. Chapter 4

Steve opened his eyes after a few moments, taking in the small room that had several music stands, a chalkboard covered in music notes, and a piano near the window. He stood and made his way over to the piano, sitting down on the bench in front of it.

Steve looked at the sheets of music that lie on top of the piano, then picked them up. He held them in his hands, reading the titles at the tops of each page, as stood up and paced around the room.

"They're all hymns," Steve murmured, seeing familiar titles. He was still pacing, but he was beginning to feel the memories receding.

He recognized the lyrics to "Amazing Grace" and "How Great Thou Art," though he was unsure why. He remembered his dad talking about Samuel and the church. Steve realized his dad came from a good place, telling him what he had about praying and about talking to the preacher, and he thought it was a good thing for him. It just wasn't something Steve cared to do or think about. Maybe Nicholas found some sort of solace in the church or in God, but he didn't see it. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't really care to try to figure it out either. Something about it just seemed to bother Steve, like the idea of anything spiritual was striking a nerve, and he wasn't interested in understanding it. He had enough to figure out that was tough to ponder, like what he had told Soda he'd been discussing with Laura.

Clara had abused Steve in more than one way, and as much as he found it hurt to delve into these layers, he knew it had to happen. She had used her words and her actions to victimize him, hurting both him and his dad. She had abused both of them, and while Clara was definitely a sexual predator, she was also an emotional one. She'd been so good at making them think she cared about them, even loved them. Steve realized he didn't know why or how someone could be that callous and cold, but he found he didn't want to know anyway. To make someone, especially a child, think they're wanted and cared about when all she'd been after were opportunities for sexual abuse made it all seem so much more evil. Steve believed it hurt more too when he thought about how his dad had pretty much fallen for Clara and how he had even liked her himself. He pondered the question of how it might have been different if a stranger, or even someone not quite as close, had been the one to sexually abuse him. Steve wanted to believe it was only that part of the abuse that had traumatized him so much, but he was beginning to realize there was a bigger and more complete picture that drew in every aspect of the situation Clara had pulled a grieving and vulnerable father and son into, intending to cause pain and confusion.

Steve stopped pacing, as he flipped to the last sheet of music. Considering the reason he was in this room, he couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw the title of the hymn was "Precious Memories."

"Talk about irony," Steve muttered. "Whoever wrote this obviously wasn't dealing with anything like what's been screwing with my head." He read over the lyrics. Yeah, they flood my soul, all right, but not exactly fond scenes of childhood, Steve thought.

He had kept in his mind the words his dad, Soda, and Evie had spoken to him not long ago. He figured those were the echoes from the past he did want flooding his soul. Remembering their never-ending reassurances and love and their willingness to stick beside him, Steve placed the pages of music back on top of the piano.

He picked up his books and stepped into the much less crowded hallway. Steve was surprised when Evie ran up to him.

"I don't have time to talk," Evie said. "But I just wanted to tell you I'm planning something kind of special for tomorrow night."

"Okay." Steve nodded. "What do you mean?"

"Just come to my house around seven. You'll see." Evie smiled at Steve, as she rushed away.

* * *

Nicholas was standing in an aisle at the grocery store. He had a cart next to him and was stocking the canned fruits and vegetables. He had just lined several cans of green beans up on the shelf when he glanced to his right and saw Evie near the frozen foods. "Hi there, Evie," he said.

Evie looked up, then turned toward Nicholas. "Oh. Hi, Mr. Randle," she said, as she added a package of steaks to her shopping cart.

"I've never seen you here before," Nicholas said, as he turned back to the cart, deciding what he should stock next.

Evie shrugged. "Just had some shopping to do today, I guess. I forgot you worked here."

"Yeah. It's almost time for me to go. I got here early." Nicholas put some cans of pineapple on the shelf.

"See you later." Evie pushed her shopping cart toward the fresh vegetables.

"Bye, Evie." Nicholas nodded at her and pulled his cart into the next aisle.

* * *

Steve was about to get into his car when he heard someone yelling his name.

"Steve! Hang on!" Pony called, hurrying up to him.

"What's up, Kid?" Steve asked, sliding into the driver's seat, keys in hand.

"I was looking for you. Could you give me a lift home?"

"Sure thing, Pony." Steve shut his door.

Pony got in the passenger side. "I'm not sure where TwoBit ran off to, and I had to stay a little late in my last class."

Steve pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of the Curtis' house.

"And I know Darry hates it when I walk home alone," Pony said, glancing over at Steve. "You didn't have to work this afternoon?"

"Nah."

"Soda says he likes having that garage at the DX." Pony grinned.

"Yeah, it's real tuff."

Steve stopped at a traffic light, and they were both quiet for a few minutes.

"Can I ask you something, Kid?" Steve said, as the light turned green. "And I swear if you say anything smart-"

"I won't, Steve."

"When you had those nightmares, did you ever remember what was in them?"

Pony shrugged. "A little. Mostly just knew I was scared. I knew something bad was happening, but I wasn't too sure what, except it was something to do with Mom and Dad."

"Do you-" Steve glanced over at Pony, then back at the road. "Do you still have them?"

"Sometimes. But I don't wake up screaming, like I used to."

"What is it like when you wake up?"

"Just takes a few minutes to calm down and get my heart to quit pounding. Sometimes, I get up for a little while. It gets me out of my head, you know?"

"Yeah, Kid. I do. I really do."

* * *

"What are you working on, Son?" Nicholas asked, sticking his head inside Steve's room.

"Just some homework. Math," Steve said, not looking up, as he wrote out the solution to an equation.

"I ran into Evie at the store right before I got off."

"Oh." Steve still didn't look up from his paper and math book. "I talked to her for a minute just before I left school. She said she's planning something special for tomorrow night for me and her."

"Sounds nice." Nicholas grinned.

"Yeah. I don't have a clue what she means though."

"Well, I'll leave you to your work." Nicholas started to walk away.

"Dad?" Steve looked up from his homework.

Nicholas turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Can you hang out in here for a little while?" Steve's eyes drifted down to the page in his textbook. "I just don't feel like being alone."

Nicholas came and sat beside his son. "Sure. You all right?"

Steve put down the pencil and put his paper inside the textbook, then closed it. "Yeah, I think so. I just already had to be by myself once today because the only thing worse was being in the middle of a crowd at school."

"Did something happen in class?"

"Kind of started to. It wasn't real bad, but I had a bit of a flashback. I'm not sure what triggered it. I just just trying to listen to Mr. Grant go on about DNA and stuff."

Nicholas grinned. "Not that it's funny, but I think that would make my mind wander around too and go somewhere else."

Steve smiled. "I'm fine with it wandering, just not with where it chooses to go or who it chooses to see."

Nicholas put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "So, seriously, how'd you handle it?"

"I did okay, I think. It was close to the end of class, so I focused as much as I could on writing notes. After the bell rang, I found an empty room to stay in for a little while, just to get myself more together."

"That's good. Sounds like you were calm enough." Nicholas squeezed Steve's shoulder, then released him.

"I think it didn't get to a point where it felt so real that time either. That makes it a little easier to remember it's a memory."

"Hey, anybody home?" came Soda's voice.

"In here, Soda!" Steve yelled.

Soda appeared in the doorway. "What are you guys up to?" he asked.

"Just talking," Nicholas said, standing to his feet. "Steve, I'm going to go get cleaned up and have something to eat."

"All right, Dad," Steve said, as Nicholas left the room.

"Thanks for bringing Pony home this afternoon, man," Soda said, sitting down next to Steve.

"Sure, no problem," Steve said, as he put his books and papers in his backpack. "I actually asked the kid about his nightmares."

"He told me. I think you surprised him."

"Surprised me too. But I have to admit it's kind of nice to know someone else that knows what it's like to have your mind scare you in the middle of the night." Steve leaned back against the head of the bed.

"You still have the nightmares?"

"Yeah. I just don't freak out so much now, and I go back to sleep. Actually, Pony only found me when he did because I left school late."

"Oh. Why's that?"

"I hid in the music room right after my last class ended. I had a flashback. Not a bad one, but still, I needed a few minutes."

"I'm sorry, man."

"I actually did okay. I didn't panic or anything. I really don't like being alone with that, but that was better than being in front of a bunch of people."

"That's real good. That you did okay, I mean."

"Yeah, I guess so." Steve nodded. "Hey, I could use a smoke. Let's go outside."

Soda followed Steve into the living room, then outside to the back porch. "Can I have one too?" he asked when Steve pulled the pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.

"Sure, man." Steve tossed the pack to Soda, before lighting his own cigarette and taking a drag. "I'm busy with Evie tomorrow night, but do you want to hang out Saturday night?"

Soda took the lighter from Steve and lit his cigarette. "Sure. I think I'm going to take Suzie out again tomorrow night. What do you want to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. We'll think of something."

The door opened, and Nicholas appeared. "Steve, I forgot to tell you Laura's office called earlier. She needed to move your appointment from Monday to Wednesday," he said.

"That's fine," Steve said.

Soda took a drag off his cigarette, watching Steve and remembering how he'd been the time he saw him have a flashback during a thunderstorm after seeing a picture of Clara. That night had really shaken Soda up. Seeing his friend so disconnected from the present had been hard enough, but the aftermath had been even worse.

* * *

_"You okay, little buddy? You didn't say a word the whole ride home," Darry said, as he pulled the truck into the driveway and turned it off._

_ "I don't know," Soda said, staring out the window at the little bit of rain that was still sprinkling down._

_ "Did something happen tonight?" Darry let his hands drop from the steering wheel._

_ "Yeah." Soda's voice was trembling. "All this with Steve, it's starting to hit me how real it is." He looked at Darry. "He thought he was back there with Clara again. He's reliving it, Dar. As if living through that hell once ain't bad enough."_

_ "I'm sorry, Soda. I hate that for him."_

_ "And then, he got real angry, but after that, he just cried and cried. The only thing I could do was hold onto him." Soda's voice cracked. "I didn't know what else to do." He turned to Darry and threw his arms around him, sobbing into his chest._

_ Darry eased his arms around Soda."You were there for him, Pepsi Cola. That's the best thing you can do. I know this is real hard for you too."_

_ "I hate seeing Steve like that. Before tonight, I don't think I knew it was this bad." Soda's voice was quiet, as he spoke through tears. "I think he needs help, Dar."_

_ Darry rested his head on top of Soda's. "You might be right."_

_ Soda pulled away from Darry and wiped his eyes. "I told him that, but I don't think he was ready to hear it."_

* * *

Evie finished setting two places at the table, then heard a knock on the door. She hurried to open it.

"Hi, sweetheart," Steve said, then noticed Evie's curled hair and flowery red dress. "You look great!"

Evie giggled. "Thanks. I just wanted to dress up a little."

Steve stepped inside. "So what's the plan tonight?"

"I decided to cook you a nice dinner. Like a birthday present."

"Thanks. That's a great idea." Steve gave Evie a kiss on the lips.

"It's not much, but I cooked steak and baked potatoes and some corn on the cob. I thought it would be nice to sit and eat together, just me and you."

Evie took Steve's hand and led him over to the table she'd set. He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down, then Steve took a seat across from her.

"You even got candles," Steve said.

"Oh, yeah," Evie said, as she stood and found a lighter on the counter. She flipped the light switch down, then lit the candles, before taking her seat again.

"This looks really good. I'm glad I came hungry."

"Go on and dig in."

* * *

"You're a good cook, sweetie. I really enjoyed it," Steve said, as he and Evie sat next to each other on the couch.

"I'm glad. I love you," Evie said.

"I love you too."

Evie leaned forward and pressed her lips against Steve's, and he kissed her back. He held her waist, then his hands moved down to rest on her thighs. Evie moved closer to Steve, deepening the kiss, and she began unbuttoning his shirt.

Steve held Evie's face in his hands, then felt her hands on his bare chest. He stroked her hair, then kissed her neck.

Evie pushed Steve down onto the couch, her hands in his hair, as she kissed him again. She was reaching to unbutton his jeans when she noticed that Steve's eyes were tightly shut, and he was no longer touching her. "Steve?" she asked.

"I can't," Steve whispered. "I can't do this." He opened his eyes, sliding away from Evie.

"But, Steve, I-"

"I'm sorry, Evie. I just can't." Steve shook his head, then stood and hurried down the hall.

"Steve, wait!" Evie got up to follow him and saw him go into the bathroom, but before she could speak again, the door closed.

Steve lowered himself down onto the bathroom floor, his back pressed against the bathtub. "It was just Evie," he mumbled over and over, his eyes closed.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the bright light, focusing on it and the cold tile floor that lay beneath his fingers, as he felt his heart pounding.

There was a knock on the door, then Evie's voice. "Can I come in? Are you okay?"

"Come on in, Evie," Steve said, feeling himself shaking, as he wrapped his arms around his legs and lay his head down in his lap.

Evie stepped inside and dropped down beside Steve, taking his hand in her own. "What's happening? What can I do?"

Steve squeezed Evie's hand. "Just be here with me." He looked up at the wall, noticing the floral print wallpaper, as he took in a deep breath. "You're okay. It's just memories. It's not real," he whispered to himself.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Evie said, blinking back tears.

"It's not your fault, baby. It just happens."

Evie rubbed Steve's back and laid her head on his shoulder, still clutching his hand.

A/N "Precious Memories" belongs to J.B.F. Wright. "Amazing Grace" to John Newton. "How Great Thou Art" to Carl Boberg.


	5. Chapter 5

Nicholas opened a drawer in his desk, revealing a pile of papers and photos. He reached beneath it and pulled out the Bible he remembered Rose taking to church when they used to go many years ago. He flipped through the pages, seeing notes written in the margins on many of them. Some were in his own handwriting, but most of them were in the curly cursive that he recognized as Rose's writing.

Nicholas stopped turning when he saw a song title he knew. "It is well with my soul," he read outloud, then smiled at the curvy handwriting. "Rose wrote that."

Nicholas' eyes moved from the margin to the scripture verses. Rose had written the hymn title on the same page as 3 John. He read the second verse: "Beloved, I pray that all my go well with you and that you may be in health. I know that it is well with your soul."

I think it really was well with her soul, Nicholas thought. I wonder what that's like.

* * *

Steve and Evie sat beside each other on a blanket in the grass in her backyard.

Evie touched Steve's arm. "Are you okay now?" she asked.

Steve nodded. "I think so."

"So that was a flashback, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was." Steve sighed. "The second one I've had lately, but the other one wasn't that bad. I thought I'd be okay, but I'm obviously not ready for...well, you know."

"So now that you've talked about everything, like you needed, what happens now? I mean, since this still happened anyway, what do you do?"

"I just cope. Talking helps, but it doesn't erase anything, you know? I can't make memories of being abused vanish. I can't make it like Clara never touched me."

Evie looked up at the stars that were twinkling and saw the moon was half full. She stared at the sky for a moment, then looked at Steve. "So if I touch you like I was when you froze, do you think it'll always make you think of what she did?"

"I hope not always, and thinking isn't really the problem. That last time we were together, that's all it was. But I can push thoughts away a lot easier. Thoughts don't make me really feel her hands on me or hear her voice. They aren't so real that it's happening all over again."

Evie gazed up at the moon and stars again as she spoke. "I guess it's just hard for me to get because I'm not her. I'm me. And I'd never hurt you or make you do anything you don't want to do."

"Evie, look at me." Steve waited until her eyes were looking into his. "I know that. It ain't that simple, but I do know."

"I guess I kind of thought that once you talked about all of this, it'd get better."

"I had a feeling you thought that."

Evie felt tears begin to slip down her cheeks. "When you asked me to be your girl again, I thought you had gotten all the time and space you needed."

Steve pulled Evie close to him, wrapping her in his arms. "I did, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be affected by this anymore."

Evie laid her head on Steve's chest, closing her eyes and hearing his heart beat. "I hate this."

"Me too, sweetie."

Evie pulled away, shaking her head. "No, I mean I hate how I'm feeling right now. I thought this was over. All I can think is you've talked and talked through all the trauma and pain. You've mended things with your dad. I care about you, and that should count for something. It should be all that matters now!" She got to her feet and started to walk away, tears still on her face.

Steve also stood and reached for her arm. "Wait! Evie, you have to listen to me. It does count for something, but-"

Evie pulled her arm away from him. "Please just go home, Steve. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

* * *

Steve was passing Nicholas' room when he spotted the Bible laying open on his dad's bed.

"Hey, Son, I was reading a little of-" Nicholas started to say.

"I don't want to hear it, Dad. Not after the night I just had," Steve said.

"What happened?" Nicholas closed the Bible and set it down in his lap.

"Evie and me..." Steve shook his head. "Let's just say we had our night interrupted by my memories."

"Huh? What do you mean? You have a flashback again?"

"Yeah. A really badly timed one."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

"Yeah." Steve sat down next to his dad.

"I'm sure Evie understands. It's not like you can stop it."

"She's real upset. I was right that she thought I'd be doing better now. She pretty much said that."

"She's expecting too much, Son. I hope you know that."

"I know, but Dad, I actually froze then ran away from her. I can't blame her for being upset." Steve bowed his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

"But she shouldn't take it personally."

Steve sighed. "I was thinking though. When we were apart before, there was so much she didn't see. You and Soda saw the most. I told her about it, but it's not the same."

"I would think she saw enough."

Steve looked down at the comforter on the bed. "All I could say was I'm sorry, but I can't do this. Then, I ran from her." He looked back up at Nicholas. "I don't think she's mad at me, but she honestly seems to think that shouldn't have happened because she's...well, she's not Clara, and she'd never hurt me."

Nicholas reached over to put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Did you tell her you know that?"

"Of course, I did. And I told her I can't stop what happened from affecting me. I have tried. I even tried tonight!" Steve covered his face with his hands, fighting tears.

Nicholas slid an arm around Steve, giving him a squeeze. "Just give her a little time to think."

Steve dropped his hands into his lap. "Dad, Evie told me I've talked about everything and fixed things with you, so it's over. She said her caring about me should be all that matters. But I can't make this stuff go away! I feel like I'm never going to be really okay. Like the idea of being better, being any kind of healed, is just there taunting me!"

Nicholas pulled away only slightly, making his son look at him. "Listen to me, Steve. You are better. You're a lot better."

"But not enough for Evie." Steve wiped his eyes, then glanced down at Nicholas' lap, recognizing the Bible this time. "Wasn't that Mom's?'

Nicholas let go of Steve. "Yeah, but we shared it."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "I guess you better say some prayers for me then. If nothing else, it'll make you feel better."

Nicholas put the Bible on his nightstand. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

Nicholas eyed Steve. "Are you sure?"

"No." Steve let himself relax. "But I don't feel like talking about it right now. I just want to go to bed. I have to work tomorrow."

* * *

"Soda, I just need to finish up with this Plymouth, then you can head home," Steve yelled from the door leading to the garage.

"All right, man," Soda said. "Hey, how was your date last night? Me and Suzie just went to the drive-in."

"Not so good, but I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Sure."

Steve went back inside the garage and closed the hood of the Plymouth he'd been working on that morning. He had just replaced the muffler, so he started it to listen to the engine. "Sure sounds a lot better," he said turning the engine off again.

Steve walked toward the door and went back inside the station where Soda was waiting for him. "I'm done, Soda. You can go when you're ready, and I'll see you in a few hours."

Before Soda could respond, the bell on the door sounded and Evie came inside.

"Hi, Evie. What brings you by?" Soda asked, shooting her a grin.

Evie didn't smile back, as she walked toward the back of the store.. "Can you come here a minute, Steve?"

"Okay," Steve said, following Evie, then stopping to stand close to her. "What's going on?"

"Way too much. I had a terrible night. All I did was cry," Evie said, clutching the purse strap on her shoulder and letting her eyes drift to the floor.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'd fix it if I could." Steve reached out to stroke her hair.

"What happened last night is really bothering me, Steve, and I'm not sure how to explain it. I feel bad."

"But it wasn't cause of you, Evie."

"But I feel like it was, and that's enough."

Steve looked toward the front and saw a couple of customers coming inside. "Do we have to do this right now?"

Evie looked at Steve, meeting his gaze. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry about what you went through, but it really has nothing to do with me, and I'm tired of feeling like it does. After the way you reacted last night, it's been all I can think about."

"The way I reacted?" Steve backed away from her, noticing Soda was looking in their direction."Evie, why does it sound like you're blaming me? Look, I can't do this right now. There are people around, and I have to get back to work."

"I'm going. Let me just say I'm not mad at you. But there are some things I think I'm just now understanding."

* * *

Soda nodded at the customer in front of him, as he handed her some change and closed the cash register. "You have a great day," he said.

As the customer walked away and out the door, Soda saw Evie leave. Then, Steve came to stand behind the counter, his eyes wide.

"You can go home, Soda," Steve said, as he stared out the window at Evie getting farther away from the station.

"What happened, Steve? What's going on with Evie?" Soda asked, coming to stand closer to his friend.

Steve turned to Soda, speaking in a soft voice. "I can't tell you here. I'll tell you later."

Soda didn't move his eyes away from Steve, as he punched out. "Are you okay?"

"No. I don't think I am." Steve blinked, glancing out the window once more, noticing he couldn't see Evie anymore. "Man, what happened last night was hard enough. I don't know how to take what she just said to me though, and I have no idea why she had to come here to talk about that."

The bell on the door sounded, and a teenage couple stepped inside, heading toward the drink machine.

"Just hang in there for a few hours, man," Soda said, then patted Steve's shoulder. Come to my house after you get off. We'll talk, hang out, whatever will help."

"All right. Thanks, Soda."

* * *

_ Steve sat nursing a beer, the other guys at Buck's either dancing to the loud country music on downing their own drinks. He was glad not to have any attention on him. Steve took the last swallow of beer and was about to go grab another when a guy he didn't recognize sat next to him at the counter that served as a bar at Buck's parties._

_ "I don't need any company," Steve said, turning to the guy, noticing he had on a cowboy hat._

_ "Ha, you look like you could use it," the cowboy said._

_ "Whatever." Steve got up and went to find another beer. He was popping open the can when the cowboy came up behind him again. "What?"_

_ "Nothing. Just wondering what you're doing in here. I ain't seen you before. Your girl break up with you or something?"_

_ Steve could smell the alcohol on this guy's breath and noticed his words were slurring when he spoke. "None of your business," he told him, taking a long sip of beer. He was walking back to his seat when the cowboy started talking again._

_ "Or maybe you're having problems at home. A kid like you on this side of town, it's always something."_

_ Steve set his beer down, clenching his fists. "Leave me alone."_

_ "What'd I say?" The cowboy smirked. "I hit a nerve? Or you just can't handle drinking and talking at the same time?" He chuckled._

_ Steve wheeled around and punched the cowboy in the face, his fist connecting with his nose. The cowboy reacted, his fist catching Steve in the face twice, before a pair of hands pulled them apart._

_ "Cut it out, you two! Ain't a reason for that!" Buck yelled._

_ Steve looked at Buck and at the cowboy, before he clenched his fists once more, then turned and punched the wall._

_ Buck yelled again. "Kid! You're going to break your hand doing that!" _

* * *

Steve was changing out of his work uniform and remembered the fight at Buck's when he'd gone there just to have a couple of beers and be among people who didn't know a thing about him. The idea had worked out okay until the guy in the cowboy had had insisted on harassing him. Then, Steve had ended up on the couch at Soda's house.

Going out and getting away doesn't sound bad, Steve thought, pulling on a shirt. A couple of beers doesn't sound bad either. But I'm not going to Buck's, he told himself. Even though fighting also sounds like it would blow off some steam.

Steve heard the phone ring just as he was walking out of his bedroom.

"Hello," Nicholas said, after picking up the receiver. "Oh. Hi, Samuel."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Dad, I'm going to Soda's. I'll be back later."

"Nicholas covered up the receiver before he spoke. "All right, Steve," he said, then returned to the conversation with Samuel.

Steve took his jacket from the chair it was hanging on, then made his way out the front door, deciding to walk to the Curtis' house. He remembered his dad on the phone with Samuel, as he tucked his hands into his pockets. Why is dad talking to him so much anyway? Steve thought. What does he know?

* * *

Soda opened the front door and saw Steve coming up the walk. "Hey, man!" he yelled. "So what are we doing?"

"Let's just hang out here," Steve said, as he came across the porch and stepped inside the house.

"Pony went with TwoBit to a movie, and Darry went out with this girl. I forget her name. But he dated her a little in high school. So it's just us here."

"You know what I feel like? A couple of beers. There any in the fridge?" Steve opened the refrigerator.

"Should be. Darry likes to have one now and then."

Steve found a can of beer and closed the refrigerator. He popped it open and took a sip, watching Soda.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just thought you'd say something about me drinking."

Soda rolled his eyes, grinning. "It's a beer, man. Not a bottle of tequila." Soda opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can for himself. "I'll have one too, and let's go out on the back porch. You're going to tell me what happened with Evie."

* * *

Evie stared at the protractor she was holding to measure an angle on the paper that was filled with her geometry homework. "It's Saturday night, and this is what I'm doing?" she said, before slamming her textbook closed.

She put her book and papers in her backpack and zipped it up, before she looked in the mirror and pulled her hair into a ponytail. I need to go out, Evie thought. If I stay in, I'll keep thinking.

* * *

Steve followed Soda out onto the back porch, and they both sat down on the steps.

Soda took a sip of beer. "So talk to me," he said.

"I don't know if I want to get into this. I spent the rest of my shift at work, trying not to think about what she said to me today and what happened last night," Steve said, before taking a gulp of his beer.

"Won't do any good to keep it to yourself. You forget I saw the look on your face when Evie was talking to you today. It was like she slapped you."

"Damn it, Sodapop. I feel like nothing is really getting solved for me cause it can't be. I keep talking and talking, but you know what the only difference is?"

"I know this ain't the answer you're looking for, but I see a lot of difference."

"I did too before, but really, everyone just knows how fucked up I am."

"What do you mean, and what the hell did Evie say to you?"

Steve set his beer down, then stood up. "Me and Evie...well, we almost, you know, slept together last night. We were headed that direction. I had a damn flashback and ran away from her."

Soda's eyes widened. "Oh."

"It gets worse though. She pretty much thinks that shouldn't have happened because I've talked so much and my dad and me are okay. And that she loves me, so that fixes everything, I guess, like it's that easy."

"You can't help it though." Soda shook his head. "She was so understanding before."

"I told her I can't erase what happened to me. It doesn't matter if I talk about it a thousand times."

"So what about today then?"

Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Evie told me that she's sorry about what happened to me, but it really has nothing to do with her, and she's tired of feeling like it does."

"Damn. That's harsh." Soda set his beer down, then got up and went to stand next to Steve. "I'm sorry. Real sorry."

"She said after the way I reacted to her touching me, that's what she's been thinking. She sounded like she was blaming me, Soda."

"That ain't right at all. I hope you know she was wrong to say any of that to you, no matter how she feels."

"I do know, but that really hurts, man. Especially what she said today. It's not like I didn't already feel bad for running away from her like that, and I'm the one who had to deal with memories making me freeze and trying to throw me back into the damn past!" Steve turned away from Soda, going to sit back down on the porch steps. He wiped at his eyes, feeling tears trying to come out. "Evie's been so good and understanding. I didn't expect her to be like this at all. It's taken a lot for me to stop thinking everything is my fault, and I don't want to feel that way again."

Soda sat down next to Steve, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I can't say I saw that coming either, Stevie. It's sure not fair to you."

"Soda, what's happening. I was doing better." Steve felt the tears fall down his cheeks. "I didn't want to upset Evie, and I'm still just trying to-" He stopped, choking on emotion.

Soda wrapped an arm around Steve and squeezed his shoulder. "I know it hurts, man."

Steve let himself lean on Soda for a moment, before pulling away. "Sorry. I know you've seen me cry enough."

"Nah. Don't say that. You've got every right. Besides, I'm your shoulder to cry on anytime you need it, buddy."

A/N Bible verse comes from Revised Standard Version. "It is Well with My Soul" belongs to Horatio Spafford and Philip Bliss.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who do you know here?" Evie asked, over the music that was playing.

"Just a couple of guys from school. And Maria is here somewhere," Patricia said. "She's the one who told me there was a party tonight."

Evie grabbed a plate and tossed some potato chips on it, eating them as she looked around at the kids dancing. Don't think about anything, she told herself. Don't feel anything.

"Come dance with us!" Maria yelled to Evie.

Evie shrugged. Sure, why not? she thought, as she set her plate down.

"Good Vibrations" started playing, and Evie danced next to her friends, moving her feet with the music. The song was still playing when a guy she recognized from school came up and started to dance with Patricia. She watched them for a moment, before turning away and finding a cooler full of canned drinks. She pulled out a Coke and opened it.

"Hey, you're friends with Patricia, right?"

Evie looked over and saw a guy she didn't know. "Yeah, I am."

"That's my cousin, Dennis, she's dancing with. I'm Tommy."

"Hi, Tommy. I'm Evie." She took a sip of her drink, noticing Tommy's blue eyes.

"So since it doesn't look like you're here with anyone, would you dance with me?" Tommy asked.

Evie blinked and glanced around, before answering. "Sure. Sounds nice," she said, setting her Coke down.

As "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" began to play, Evie saw Patricia across the room, still dancing with Dennis. She let Tommy take her hand, telling her mind to stay quiet.

Evie let herself sway to the music and was hardly aware when Tommy's hands began holding her waist. They moved side to side, and before she knew it, Evie had laid her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, letting the melody wash over her, as she reminded her heart to silence itself and fade into the background.

* * *

"I'm okay Soda. You don't have to keep checking," Steve said.

Soda looked away. "I wasn't checking anything. I was just uh-" his eyes landed on the beer can still on the porch, "looking for my beer."

Steve cracked a grin. "Sure, buddy. I believe that."

"Yeah, I know you don't believe me. But that's all right." Soda took a sip of beer. "I don't believe you either."

Steve sighed. "Good to know I'm not convincing."

Soda shrugged. "Only cause it's me, man."

"That and I just got done crying my eyes out." Steve took a swallow of the beer in his hand.

"So what now then?"

"How about we go inside? I need another drink."

"All right. Hey, why don't we play cards, like we did last time I was hanging out with you and your dad?"

"Sure. So long as you don't try to cheat!"

Soda chuckled. "Who? Me? I'd never do that!"

* * *

"So where are you from? I haven't seen you around school before," Evie said, as she sat next to Tommy on a small sofa that was tucked into a corner.

"Oklahoma City. I'm visiting Dennis for the weekend," Tommy said. "It seemed like you like to dance. What else do you like to do?"

"Yeah, I do, but I think it's only cause I like the music. It really sweeps me away. Well, I guess I like bowling. I got a lot with my friends and sometimes with my-" Evie shook her head. "Never mind. What about you?"

"I play the guitar in my free time. I've played since I was a kid."

"That's really cool. Do you write music too?"

Tommy shrugged. "A little. I try anyway. I just like to sit outside and play. Usually at night. It really takes my mind off things, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I like to sit outside at night too. I look up at the stars and-" Evie paused, blinking her eyes, as she let her mind drift to the music that was playing.

_ "A time to plant, a time to reap. A time to kill, a time to heal. A time to laugh, a time to weep"_

"And what? Something wrong?" Tommy asked.

Evie felt her heart beat faster, as the song moved on to the chorus.

_"To everything. Turn, turn, turn. There is a season. Turn, turn, turn."_

Evie looked back at Tommy, the music pulling her into the atmosphere and away from herself.

_ "A time to build up, a time to break down. A time to dance, a time to mourn,"_

Evie leaned forward and pressed her lips to Tommy's in a quick kiss.

_"To everything. Turn, turn, turn. There is a season. Turn, turn, turn."_

Evie let the lyrics wash over her, getting lost in the song. "I was just going to say I'd go to the Moon and never come back to this planet at all if I could."

* * *

"Man, I just beat you again!" Steve said, tossing down his last card.

"Aw, you don't know that. I think we're pretty close this time." Soda showed Steve the last two cards in his hand. "All I got is a five of spades and a two of hearts," he said. "No high cards."

"Hmm." Steve eyed the cards on the table, as he took a swallow of beer. "Maybe. I think I played more high ones though. Let's count them up."

* * *

_"Evie, what's the matter? Why are you crying?" Soda asked, after he had answered the phone and heard her tearful voice._

_ "Steve broke up with me, Soda," Evie said._

_ "What? What happened? Did you guys get in a fight or something?"_

_ "No! I just went to see him, and he was sick. He was throwing up and said he'd been drinking this morning. He even said drinking helped him. Like that was better than actually talking to the counselor."_

_ Soda felt his hand grip the phone receiver tighter. "Oh, man. That's not good. So what did he say to you?"_

_ "That he can't make me see him like that, that he's not himself anymore, and that I deserve better." Evie swallowed, as she felt more tears come into her eyes. "But I only want him. I love him, and I want to be there for him. I don't understand what's happening."_

_ "I'm sorry, Evie. I'm going to go talk to him."_

_ "But, Soda, don't worry about me, okay? I'm upset Steve doesn't want to see me, but I'm more worried about him than I am about that. He told me he can't bring me down with him, that I'm better off. What does all of this mean? What's he thinking?"_

_ Soda sighed. "I'm not sure, but I know he's been hurting. It just seems to have gotten even worse. This really can't go on."_

_ "I know, and I don't want him to end up hurting himself more."_

_ Soda glanced around the living room and spotted his shoes. "I'm going to talk to him. Try not to worry."_

_ "Thanks, Soda. I mean for listening too."_

_ "Of course. I'll talk to you later, Evie."_

* * *

"Ha, I beat you by fifteen points!" Soda said, as he finished counting.

Steve smiled, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. Don't brag."

Soda chuckled. "Like you wouldn't be!"

Steve shrugged, as he stacked the cards and started to shuffle the deck. "You're not wrong, but it fits me better."

"You mean cause I'm usually so humble?"

Steve snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm more humble than you are!"

"It ain't humble when you brag about it, man."

Soda smiled. "Aw, cut it out, and let's play some cards."

Steve started to deal. "But you really ain't wrong about that either."

* * *

Evie lie in her bed the next morning, remembering how she had kissed Tommy. Why do I keep hurting Steve? she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She recalled what her mom had said about not expecting any healing Steve had done to be perfect. "That's exactly what I did too," she mumbled.

When Steve had asked Evie to be his girl again, she had been cautious at first. She had still been scared of hurting him, worried about the flashes of memory and the pain he experienced. She never wanted her touch to be associated with that fear and panic. As much as Steve said it wasn't her and that they'd been there lurking for years, Evie still wanted to be careful.

Yet, over the last couple of months, she had relaxed because she could see that Steve had become calmer. He didn't flinch or panic. He didn't get that look in his eyes like he traveled back in time. He no longer looked so exhausted from both the literal and figurative nightmares. Evie had stopped worrying. I was right, she'd thought. Steve did just need to talk. He was traumatized, but maybe he won't be forever.

When Steve had frozen then bolted away from Evie, her touch pulling the trigger that made memories shoot through him, her fears had come back to life. This was what she had been afraid of in the first place, and she had actually believed that could be over.

The phone ringing startled Evie out of her thoughts. She wiped her eyes, as she got up to answer it. "Hello," she said into the receiver.

"Hi, honey!" Irene's voice said.

Evie let herself drop onto the couch."Oh, hi, Mom."

"Are you okay? You don't sound good."

Evie twisted the phone cord in her fingers, as she spoke. "Yeah. I'm okay. You going to be home later today?"

"Sure will. I was just calling to tell you that we're leaving to come home in a couple of hours."

"All right. I love you, Mom. I need to go."

"I love you too, Evie. Bye!"

Evie set the phone down in its cradle, wandering back into her thoughts. It was so much more than just the kiss, she mused. It was the dancing, the conversation, the wanting to melt into the atmosphere. She never should've have even danced with Tommy, knowing getting carried away would be her weakness when she was searching for an escape.

Evie had meant it when she said she would go to the Moon and never come back if she could. Yet, that was the only part of the night with any meaning. That statement embodied what she had been after, and her mind had simply orbited the planet for a while, caught in the pull of the music. However, Evie had found herself crashing back to Earth and its reality when Tommy asked her for her phone number. She told him she needed to get home because it was getting late, but really, guilt was beginning to fall upon her. The regret over how she had let herself get swept away by a random guy at a party was clashing with the denial she had talked herself into after Steve had the flashback.

Evie had hurt Steve with her touch, then with her words. She was going to hurt him again by letting him know about what transpired at the party. He never needed to know that she had so much as looked at another guy. Evie had to somehow mend the pain she knew she had caused by speaking to Steve the way that she had, and she couldn't do that if he knew she had betrayed him.

* * *

"Hey, Dad, where did you go all dressed up like that?" Steve asked, seeing his dad walking past the open bathroom door.

Nicholas undid the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, then rolled them up. "To church. I don't even know why I bothered dressing like this." He loosened his tie. "No one else did."

"Oh." Steve turned on the sink, glancing at his reflection, as he splashed water on his face.

"It was a good service."

"Oh yeah?" Steve switched off the bathroom light and started to go toward the living room.

Nicholas followed Steve. "Sure was. Sermon was something about what Jesus said about peacemakers."

Steve saw the Bible, the one that had been his mom's, on the table next to the couch. "That's good."

"You should come with me sometime."

"I don't know about that, Dad. It's just-" Steve sighed. "It's real hard for me to think about God."

"Oh." Nicholas sat down on a chair in the kitchen. "I don't even know what to say to that."

Steve sat down across from Nicholas. "Then, don't say anything."

"Wait." Nicholas leaned forward. "That night I was talking about Samuel, is that why you got so upset? And that remark you made about saying a prayer for you?"

"Yeah. It's no big deal, all right? I just can't think about more than I already am right now. It's too hard. The counseling...it's been kind of tough lately. I still have this going on with Evie too."

"Is she still upset because of what happened a couple of nights ago?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry she feels like she does, but it's not my fault that I'm not ready." Steve looked down at the floor, then back up at Nicholas, as he raked a hand through his hair."Damn, it's not like I meant for that to happen either, and as much as she feels like it is, it ain't about her."

"Hey." Nicholas touched Steve's arm. "Son, did Evie tell you that it was your fault?"

"Not exactly. It was more the way she said it when she told me the way I reacted made her feel like it was cause of her. But that reaction, as she put it, wasn't my choice."

Nicholas grinned a little. "I'm real proud of you, do you know that?"

"Huh?" Steve looked at his dad, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I really think if this same thing had happened not too long ago, you would've blamed yourself, and that's not what I'm hearing now."

* * *

Nicholas was in his bedroom the next time he thought about what Steve had said about it being hard for him to think about God and recalled his son's sudden hostility when he mentioned talking to Samuel. That incident, plus the tone of Steve's voice when he'd told his dad he better say a prayer for him, made Nicholas wonder if there could be more going on beneath the surface of Steve's simple explanation.

Nicholas turned to the page in the Bible, where Samuel had preached from that morning. He read Matthew 5:9. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." Samuel had referenced that, then talked about peace and what it means as a fruit of the Spirit and of the perfect peace only God can bring.

Nicholas' mind wandered to Steve and the chasm that had grown between them for years. He thought of Clara and the emotional chaos she had created for both of them. She brought darkness into their home when she abused Steve, leaving him to live with a trauma that no amount of light could chase from his memory. Nicholas and Steve had pushed past the chasm, growing close in spite of how far apart they had been. Not long ago, Steve had said there was peace between them. Just that thought filled Nicholas' heart with a warmth he could hardly describe.

Samuel had spoken of the harmony and security that were the benefits of peace, then about how being a peacemaker didn't mean running from or denying conflict. It meant quite the opposite. To deny the problem wouldn't create peace, only more pain and confusion. Nicholas realized that's what he had done after Clara's abuse was revealed. Maybe some part of him had thought he could keep the peace by not talking to Steve about what happened, by just going on with their lives. The problem with that though, was there was no peace to keep. Any kind of security that had existed in their home prior to Clara's arrival was destroyed, and there was no harmony to be found.

Yet, these last couple of months, Nicholas and Steve had truly done the work of peace making in their relationship. They'd laid out all their tough emotions together, seeking resolution and healing. They had faced it all and held onto each other through the pain of memories time hadn't left in the past. Steve especially had let himself open up when he knew that Nicholas was walking that path with him, even if both of them stumbled on every step.

Nicholas traced his finger over the words of Jesus that were colored in red. "There's still a lot left to do for him, Lord. Me too. He really needs more peace, more healing. It still makes me so angry to remember. I hate that this is affecting him, and I hate I didn't stop her. Everyday, I still think of how he kept all that pain inside and how I tried to drink away what happened."

Nicholas blinked away tears, as he closed the Bible and set it on top of his nightstand. He undid the tie that was still around his neck. "All I can say is help my son, God. And help me too."

A/N "Good Vibrations" belongs to the Beach Boys. "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" to the Righteous Brothers" and "Turn, Turn, Turn" To the Byrds :)

All Bible verses come from the Revised Standard Version, as I found it was available as of the 1950s and I thought they would read something besides King James.


	7. Chapter 7

"Evie, I have some things I need to say," Steve said, as he walked into the backyard, where she was sitting on the swing underneath the branches of a tree.

"Me too," Evie said.

Steve sat down next to her. "But I want to start. First, I need to tell you that even if I do talk about everything that happened when I was a kid, I still can't change it. I got hurt, Evie, and I don't think you get how much. When we were apart before, there was a lot you didn't see. And you need to know that I am doing a hell of a lot better, but I'm still trying the best I can to handle a bunch of feelings and memories."

Evie leaned her head against the chain of the swing that she held onto, staring at Steve. "I'm so sorry about the things I said. I do see you're doing better too. Please don't think I can't."

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why did you come to the DX to say that to me?"

"I guess I wanted to know that you wouldn't react much. I knew if you were at work, I could just tell you what was on my mind and then leave."

Steve turned his head to look at Evie, sitting up straight. "But why? Why wouldn't you just talk to me? I don't need to feel like you blame me."

Evie lifted her head up, her eyes never leaving Steve's face. "I wasn't trying to blame you! I didn't mean to sound like that. I know it isn't your fault. I just-" She looked away. "I got scared."

"Of what?"

"Remember the letter I wrote you after you broke up with me?"

Steve nodded. "Of course I do."

I wrote then that I was afraid of hurting you, and that's exactly what happened the other night. So, I don't know." Evie shrugged, sighing, as she looked down at her hands. "I guess I wanted a way to run from that."

Steve reached for Evie's hand. "You didn't hurt me. There are things that affect me that affect our relationship, but you didn't do that."

"But my touch..." Evie felt tears rise in her eyes and blinked them back. "It did. And I never wanted that to happen. I never wanted to hurt you. You see, I stopped worrying about it a while ago because I thought I didn't have to anymore. You seemed okay. Calmer and everything."

"That's cause I am, but Evie, what we were doing...That's so different. Flashbacks happen at other times too, but looking back now, I'd have been more surprised if I had been all right."

Evie squeezed Steve's hand once, then pulled her own hand away. "I really wasn't trying to blame you. I don't want you to feel bad. You shouldn't have to. You didn't do anything. I'm sorry I made this worse."

"Tell me something. Am I doing enough for you? That lettter you mentioned also said all you need is to know I care about you, and I even did what you were telling me. I haven't stopped talking. I feel like it's all I do sometimes! And I'm not doing anything crazy to deal."

"You don't have to do anything for me though."

"But I keep feeling like I should. You waited for me. You could've moved on. You could've found someone else who didn't need time to get his head together."

"But I-" Evie couldn't look at Steve anymore. "I don't want anyone else."

"I guess I'm a lucky guy then." Steve put his arm around Evie.

"Steve, I-" Evie hesitated. "I need to get inside. My mom and dad will be back soon. I need to get the house ready." She stood to her feet, going toward the door.

"Ready for what? They've only been gone a couple of days."

"I know. I just want it to be clean, I guess." Evie went up the porch steps and disappeared inside the house.

Steve watched her rush away. "All right, then."

* * *

_"Hi, Evie. It's me, Steve. I was wondering if you felt like hanging out." Steve said into the phone receiver._

_ "Um, I don't know. I'm going out to the bowling alley with some friends tonight. And I uh- I have some stuff going on," Evie said._

_ "Oh. Okay. I just wondered about you, you know? You left after we talked a couple of days ago, and you acted like you were in a hurry."_

_ "I just wasn't feeling too good that day."_

_ "Did I freak you out after what I told you?"_

_ "What? No, of course not. Hey, I'll talk to you later, Steve. My mom just came in, so I have to go. Bye!"_

_ Steve heard a click, as Evie hung up the phone. He set the receiver in its cradle, wondering if he'd made a mistake. Maybe he never should've told Evie he had been abused._

* * *

Nicholas opened the door to the church, as he heard the sound of the piano. He stepped inside to see it was Samuel playing. He recognized the song, a hymn that was titled, "Just As I Am."

Nicholas slid into a pew and pulled a hymnal from the seat back in front of him. He skimmed through the lyrics, his eyes stopping on the second stanza."

"Just as I am, and waiting not to rid my soul of one dark blot..."

The piano continued to play, and Nicholas glanced up, making brief eye contact with Samuel, before looking back down at the page of hymn lyrics, reading further.

"Just as I am, tho' tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without..."

Nicholas gripped the hymnal tighter. "God, I don't want to feel like this," he prayed. "I don't want to think like this."

He didn't even notice when the sound of the piano no longer filled the church. He was still clutching the hymnal and had closed his eyes, praying silently. He only looked up when he realized Samuel was next to him.

"What brings you back here so soon?" Samuel asked.

Nicholas closed the hymnal and set it back in its place. "Sometimes, things just get to me," he said. "I didn't know if anyone would be here on a Sunday afternoon, but it was worth a shot. Better than what I feel like doing. Or what I almost did."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "What did you almost do?"

Nicholas dropped his head into his hands. "I shouldn't be putting all of this on you."

"All of what?"

"We haven't even known each other that long and here I am-" Nicholas lifted his head, looking at Samuel. "I shouldn't have come here."

Samuel grinned slightly. "Hey, it's not like we started out talking about the weather." His expression turned serious. "Besides, it's no secret about my son, but look what I told you at the coffee shop that day. Just so you know too, that doesn't mean you can't tell me what's on your mind now, if that's what you're worried about."

"All right. After the sermon today, I got to thinking. You talked about peace, and I know there's peace between me and my son. But I still get so angry sometimes."

"You don't have that peace within yourself."

Nicholas stared at the sunlight that streamed through the stained glass windows, illuminating the sanctuary around them. "No, I don't. I've told God about all of it too. I don't know what else is left to do."

"Believe me, I know that feeling." Samuel leaned forward, his steady gaze meeting Nicholas' eyes. "You still need to forgive yourself."

* * *

"Evie, you didn't eat much, honey," Irene said, as she cleared the table, putting plates in the sink.

"I'm just tired, Mom," Evie said.

"Busy weekend without us here, huh?" Evie's dad, Joe, asked, grinning at her.

Evie couldn't help grinning back at him. "Oh, yeah, I had a huge party, Dad. It was great."

Joe kissed Evie's head. "Our trip really was great."

Irene smiled. "It was such a beautiful view of the mountains."

"I guess so." Joe said. "But that wasn't the view I enjoyed the most," he added, as he stared at Irene.

Irene laughed, rolling her eyes. "Right."

Joe kissed his wife on the lips. "I'm going to go get ready for work tomorrow," he said, before disappearing into their bedroom.

"So what did you do this weekend?" Irene asked, as she sat back down next to Evie.

"I had a date with Steve Friday night, then I went to this house party with Patricia last night," Evie said, shrugging. "So, nothing too special."

"What'd you guys do for your date?"

"Just had dinner." Evie got to her feet. "Hey, I'm going to go finish some homework that's due tomorrow, then go on to bed."

"Okay, honey. Good night."

* * *

Soda came through the door that connected the garage to the station. "I thought I heard-" he said, before seeing Evie filling a cup with lemonade. "Oh! Hey, Evie. What's up?"

"Hi, Sodapop. Cafeteria felt kind of crowded, so I thought I'd come by for a drink," Evie said. She approached the counter, handing Soda the money for the lemonade. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude last time I was in here."

Soda stood in front of the cash register, closing it after putting the money inside. He paused for a moment, before saying anything. "You know, Steve told me what you said to him that day."

Evie sipped her lemonade and nodded. "I figured he would."

Soda sighed, leaning forward on the counter, facing Evie. "Look, maybe it's not my place to say this, but please don't hurt Steve just because things didn't go the way you expected."

Evie bit her lip, avoiding Soda's gaze. "I won't. I wouldn't ever hurt him on purpose. I told him I'm sorry. I really am too. I shouldn't have been like that."

Soda grinned at her. "He told me you guys talked, and I'm glad. But I still wanted to tell you that."

Evie shifted from one foot to the other. "Um, I better go. I should get back to school."

"Bye, Evie. I-" Soda was interrupted by the ding of the bell, as Evie opened the door, hurrying away. He shrugged, then went back into the garage.

* * *

Nicholas was about to start bagging groceries for the customer currently checking out, as he contemplated the conversation with Samuel. How do I forgive myself? he wondered. He sorted through the items, putting all the frozen food in one paper bag, before moving on to the fresh fruits. What does that really mean anyway? Nicholas asked himself. He had assumed he knew what that meant. Forgiveness hadn't seemed like such a complicated concept when it came to asking Steve to forgive him. But forgiving himself seemed somehow different and harder.

If Steve could let go of that anger and resentment toward him, shouldn't that mean Nicholas could do the same for himself? Yet, he couldn't stop believing that since Steve had shouldered so much shame and guilt, he needed to not just be there to help his son heal from that, but also to carry the burden for him. Nicholas had told Steve to blame him if he wanted to, and he'd meant it. He had even asked God to let him do it. He had told Samuel he deserved that pain more than Steve did, and he was willing to take it. If Nicholas could stop his son from hurting, he would bear every bit of guilt and shame that existed because of the past.

As Nicholas bagged the last of the groceries and put them in the customer's cart, he remembered where he'd gone, before deciding to go to the church. No wonder I wanted a drink, he thought. And no wonder the only thing that stopped me in that moment was realizing I was parked in the lot of a closed liquor store, having forgotten it was Sunday.

* * *

"Evie, come here a minute," Patricia said, standing in the corner of the courtyard just outside the cafeteria.

"Hey, what's up?" Evie asked, coming to stand next to her friend.

Patricia kept her voice low. "I was just talking to Dennis, and he said his cousin still wants your number. Something about you guys dancing and you kissing him the other night at that party. What's going on?"

Evie blushed. "Nothing. Don't tell anyone else any of that. It shouldn't have happened."

"Nothing? It's true then?"

"Kind of."

"What? And where was I?"

"I know last I saw you, you were dancing with Dennis. I didn't see you after that. But it was no big deal."

"Are you sure about that? Evie, you've never-"

"I know." Evie's voice trembled, tears rising. "I messed up. But I don't want Steve to get hurt. It didn't mean anything."

Patricia wrapped her arms around Evie, hugging her for a moment. "Okay. I won't say a word."

Evie hugged her back. "I got carried away. There have been some...problems lately. It scared me, and I just stopped thinking."

Patricia pulled away, rubbing Evie's shoulder. "All right. It'll be okay."

Evie wiped at her eyes, as she glanced around the courtyard. "How do you even know Dennis anyway?"

"He's in my English class this semester. He hasn't been going here long. I'll tell him to tell his cousin to forget about it, okay?"

"Thanks." Evie tried to smile. "I'm so mad at myself. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I swear I broke my own heart."

Patricia touched Evie's arm. "I have to go, but I'll be home after practice. Call me if you want to talk, and it'll just stay between us."

* * *

"Oh, that's right," Steve murmured to himself, as he started to pull out of the school's parking lot. "Laura rescheduled to Wednesday. Maybe I'll see about working for a few hours." He rolled his eyes, as he adjusted the rearview mirror. Great, now I'm talking to myself, he thought.

Steve rolled down the window and stopped when he saw Evie. He waved. "Hey!"

Evie waved back, then approached Steve's car.

"I haven't seen you all day," Steve said.

"I've just been in class. That's all." Evie adjusted the backpack on her shoulders.

"Why don't we go back to that spot at the end of the strip Friday night? We'll look at the stars again."

"Sure, Steve. I'd like that."

"I think we need it."

Evie watched Steve drive away. You have no idea, she thought. She shook her head. No, we're starting with a blank slate, she told herself. Patricia's right. It'll be okay.

* * *

"Man, I'd like a car as tuff as this one," Steve said, as he slid out from underneath a green Thunderbird.

"Sure is," Soda agreed. "Brakes sure were messed up though."

"They're pretty much good as new now. Whoever's been driving it wore out the brake pads. Probably speeding around town or something. You can go. I'm good here. I'm going to finish up the paperwork for this one inside."

"Oh. Actually, I think the owner is supposed to come pick it up in a little bit." Soda opened the cabinet, where they stored sets of keys. "Well, he was going to check on it anyway, so good it's finished. Coleman said he was pretty eager to have it back."

"I bet. I would be too."

"Ah. Here they are." Soda found the keys and handed them to Steve.

"Thanks, man."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Stevie."

* * *

_Nicholas tucked the sheet and blanket around Steve, then gently kissed his temple. He leaned his forehead against his son's for a moment, his mind still reeling from everything Steve had told him tonight._

_ "I'm glad we talked, Dad," Steve said, his voice quiet. "I think it'll help."_

_ "It's what you needed," Nicholas said, as he ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "I promise I'm always here for you now."_

_ "I know. You wouldn't let me keep it all inside again if I tried, would you?" Steve blinked his eyes, one tear rolling down his cheek._

_ Nicholas wiped the tear away, as he blinked back his own that he had been trying to hold back for hours. "I sure wouldn't. Please know I wasn't trying to hurt you when I started to push. I just wanted to get through to you. I couldn't let you keep going on like that."_

_ "I know. You did too. When you hugged me that time, something just opened up. The fight drained out of me."_

_ Nicholas' voice trembled when he spoke again. "I'm still so sorry, Son. I'm sorry any of it happened."_

_ "I know you are. You don't have to keep saying it. Thank you for not letting me go tonight, for not giving up."_

_ "I'm right here beside you, Steve. I promise I'll keep listening to anything you remember and anything you feel." Nicholas squeezed Steve's arm through the covers. "You get some sleep. It's been a long night."_

_ "Okay." Steve let his eyes close, as Nicholas stood._

_ Nicholas slowly walked away, still staring at his son, as he began pulling the bedroom door closed. He felt those tears well in his eyes again, as he heard it close with a soft click. Nicholas let go of the knob and stood with his back against the door, as he slid down onto the floor. He took a deep breath. This has to be a start, he thought. God, I hope I can be what he needs._

* * *

Nicholas thought about that night, remembering how Steve had opened up. That was when he'd begun to grasp the full reality of what his son had suffered, when he truly understood the trauma that Steve had faced.

Nicholas figured that was when his self-blame had started to peak since, just after that conversation full of Steve's haunting memories and lingering complex feelings, he could only think of how he hated himself. This had led Nicholas to his knees in prayer, seeking help, but wanting the comfort more for Steve than for himself. He finally knew what he'd made his son keep inside all those years.

What Nicholas hadn't known yet was Steve had been unable to tell him everything that night. There was more, and the rest of those details shattered what was left of Nicholas' heart, as the anger at Clara and at himself had risen again. The fact that Nicholas had put a stop to the abuse as soon as he found out didn't erase his own unknowing role in it, even though Steve said he believed his dad saved him from even worse suffering. It didn't make the way Nicholas had chosen to handle the aftermath any better either. Actually, those last hidden details made what he'd done seem even worse.

The way Nicholas had trusted Clara and believed her to be a genuinely good person made him ache inside. He couldn't understand how that happened, and he continued to struggle with knowing Steve had endured such abuse in his own house, while his dad was right there under the same roof. He didn't know how to forgive himself for not realizing Clara was a predator.

How did that happen? Nicholas wondered to himself, as he drank the whiskey he'd poured into a glass. Why didn't I know to stop her sooner? he thought. Why did I think she loved me? That she even loved him?

Nicholas didn't look up when he heard someone come inside the house. He took another gulp of whiskey. It's just one glass, he thought, looking at the bottle he'd set on the nightstand. I just want an ounce of numbness. He wanted something to take the edge off of these questions and make him forget for a moment.

"Dad, this isn't a sight I missed coming home to," Steve said, when he saw Nicholas.

"It's only one drink, Son. I promise." Nicholas couldn't look at Steve, only staring at the almost empty glass still in his hand.

"After what's happened before? After what you said to me about how it didn't help?"

Nicholas looked at Steve then, noticing how soft his voice was, how his expression wasn't angry.

Steve spoke again, his voice still showing no hint of the anger Nicholas had expected. "Dad, what's going on? You haven't been doing this anymore."

Nicholas kept his eyes on Steve, his heart swelling with gratitude for the relationship they shared, for the transparency and authenticity that dealing with the past had helped them create. He was so thankful to have his son, yet felt a pang of guilt, realizing drinking wouldn't be the way to show that. He couldn't risk hurting Steve. Samuel was right. Nicolas had to treasure this relationship, had to cherish his son's presence.

"Dad, what are you thinking about?" Steve's voice spoke once more.

Nicholas snapped out of his daze. "A lot of things, Son."

"That's why you don't need to drink. If you keep going, it won't be just that one glass. You keep telling me you're here if I need you, but you won't be if you do this."

Nicholas put the glass down next to the bottle. "I guess I just wanted to relax. But you're right. I'm not here for you if I drink. You'd think I would hate this stuff anyway." He covered his face with his hands. "I put it down, but I always pick it back up."

Steve put a hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "So you pour it out, and you start over."

Nicholas met Steve's eyes, realizing he was giving him grace that countered the self-hatred that was still in his heart, existing alongside the anger and blame that kept him from fully forgiving himself. His son had more mercy to offer him than Nicholas had for himself.

A/N "Just As I Am" belongs to Charlotte Elliott


	8. Chapter 8

"Get out of here, man!" Steve said, chuckling.

Soda laughed. "What? I'm serious! I was looking everywhere for my shoes, and I found them, but if Pony hadn't said something, I would've left without a shirt on!"

"Dude, how do you forget to put on all of your clothes?" Steve still smiled, as he pulled his car into the parking lot of the DX.

"I don't know. I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached. I get distracted." Soda put his DX cap on his head, then opened the car door to get out.

"I've got this afternoon off, but I'll probably still see you later."

Soda stepped out of the car. "I'm getting off early today. I'll be home right after school is over, I think."

"So I'll swing by your house." Steve waved to Soda, as the car door slammed. "Later, man."

* * *

Evie had just pulled her hair back into a ponytail when she heard Steve's voice. She looked up, and there he was at the edge of the courtyard. Dennis stood next to him, and they were talking to each other.

Steve turned toward her. "Evie!" he said, waving her over.

Evie went over to them, and she realized hey were discussing something about a car.

"Yeah, it's fine now," Dennis said. "I went for a bit of a drive after I picked it up."

"That's a real tuff car, man," Steve said, glancing over at Evie and giving her a smile.

"Thanks for fixing it. It's hardly ever given me problems, not til I drove back from Oklahoma City with my cousin a few nights ago."

Evie swallowed. "Steve, I-"

"Hey, you're the one Tommy was talking about," Dennis said. "I remember seeing you that night. He really liked you, you know."

Evie dropped her eyes to the ground. "Um-"

"Don't worry. I told him to forget it," Dennis added.

Evie could feel Steve's eyes on her, as he spoke to Dennis again. "Well, if you have any more problems, you know where to take it," he said.

"Sure thing! See you, Steve! You too, Evie," Dennis said, as he walked away, going back inside the school building.

"I worked on his Thunderbird at the DX yesterday," Steve said. "When he picked it up yesterday, I didn't even realize he goes here."

"Yeah, he knows Patricia," Evie said, still avoiding looking at Steve's face.

"Hey, what was he talking about? About his cousin liking you?"

"Nothing." Evie was quick to respond. "We were all just at the same party Saturday night."

"Oh." Steve grinned, then kissed Evie's cheek and put an arm around her.

Evie felt herself tense up, as she stood frozen to her spot. She never lied to Steve. She'd never had a reason to lie to him.

"Evie, what's wrong?" Steve asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder.

Evie didn't lie this time. "I just feel kind of sick."

"So you two are together?" It was Dennis' voice again, and he stood on the other side of Evie.

Evie nodded, trying to smile, as she saw Steve open his mouth, like he was about to speak.

"But then, why did you-" Dennis started to say.

"Don't say anything else, Dennis," Evie warned.

Steve let his arm drop from Evie's shoulders. "What's going on?" He looked between Dennis and Evie.

"I'm not too sure myself," Dennis said. "But I have to get home." He walked toward the parking lot.

"Evie, what is going on? What's he talking about?" Steve asked, his voice calm, even as his expression showed confusion.

Evie blinked away tears, deciding what to say. "I don't know what I should tell you."

"Did something happen between you and that guy's cousin?"

Evie reached out and touched Steve's shoulder, then let her hand rest on his arm. "Not really. We just- We just talked."

"Don't, Evie." Steve's voice got harder. "You're not all nervous and about to cry because you just talked."

"I'm sorry."

"Just tell me the truth then." Steve finally caught Evie's eyes, his face softening. "Don't lie to me."

"Okay. Can we go sit down somewhere then? Away from here?"

* * *

_Steve lie on his bed after Soda had left him alone. He remembered everything he had said to his best friend and to Evie. He hadn't been trying to hurt either of them. He just couldn't bear to let them tear down these walls._

_ When Soda finally said he would go, part of Steve had wanted to stop him and tell him the truth about how he was feeling and about the memories in his mind. Yet, what another part of him wanted was just to hide. The alcohol had made him numb for a while, distracted by the intoxicated feeling. It made him sick, but it seemed better than the overpowering shame that was out to consume him. Steve couldn't make memories go away, but he could try to silence them and then cover them up with anger. He was feeling so out of control, and lashing out let him have a little bit of power over the chaos in his mind and heart._

_ Steve had told Soda he didn't want to die, and he was being truthful. When he had softened for a moment to tell his best friend the thought had crossed his mind, that was true too. His dad and Soda had been so alarmed at his words and behavior just days before, believing he was suicidal, and Steve had admitted something to himself soon after that. He wasn't actively thinking of ending his own life or planning anything, and he didn't want to, as much as he was hurting right now. He hadn't even come close to acting on these thoughts and couldn't imagine considering it, but they were there. Steve hadn't even realized those thoughts were in his head until after Soda pointed out his own words to him._

_ Steve shuddered, a shiver of cold rattling him inside. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing away the ache in his head. Steve knew he needed to rest, but he couldn't sleep right now. He also didn't want to be alone anymore, not when he realized where else his head was still capable of wandering._

* * *

"So tell me what happened," Steve said, sitting in the driver's seat of his car.

Evie looked out the window at the park, where they'd driven to talk. "I did talk to him. We also danced a little bit. I'm sorry, Steve. I wasn't thinking. He asked me to dance, and I don't know what happened. I was still upset, still scared. I didn't want to feel."

"What else?"

Evie looked down at her hands that were getting clammy, then ran her fingers through her ponytail. "I wanted to shut out those feelings. Just wanted to shut my brain off from being scared, from feeling so guilty and-"

Steve took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut. He bowed his head, before opening them again. "So what else happened?"

"We were talking, and I- I kissed him. But it was quick, only a second, then I left, I swear. I didn't mean to do it."

Steve blinked, his eyebrows knitting together. "You've never cheated on me before."

"I'm sorry. I didn't plan it. He just showed up, and I let myself get carried away. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You could've just talked to me. So this happened before we talked about what was going on?"

"It was Saturday night, so yeah."

Steve kept his voice steady, his tone calm. "So after what you said at the DX. It was because of what happened when we almost slept together."

"No, it happened because of how I felt, and I messed up, and it was a mistake. I should've thought about what I was doing."

"I don't know what to say, Evie. I don't want to feel anything right now either."

Evie reached for Steve's hand, but he pulled it away. She felt familiar tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Steve shook his head. "No, I'm not. I thought you loved me more than that."

* * *

Soda jumped when the front door banged open, and he saw Steve's car keys coming toward him. "What's going on?" he asked, catching the keys in his hands.

"Just come with me, Soda. Drive anywhere. I don't care. But I don't know what I would do alone right now," Steve said.

Hearing the desperation in Steve's voice, Soda followed him to his car, and they both got in, doors slamming shut. Soda started to speak, as he turned on the car, shifting it into gear.

"Not yet. Just drive," Steve said. "Please."

Soda nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"Come on, man. We've been driving for twenty minutes. What's going on?" Soda asked, glancing over at Steve. "You look like you're in shock or something."

"I want to stay that way," Steve said, watching the trees rush by, as they got farther away from the main part of town and closer to the middle of nowhere.

"You're scaring me." Soda turned his eyes back to the road.

"Evie cheated on me."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"She kissed some guy at a party."

"Glory, Steve. I'm sorry."

"She apologized. She said she got carried away and didn't think about what she was doing."

"Sounds like she wasn't thinking at all."

Steve stared straight ahead, his eyes not leaving the road in front of them, the white lines blurring together. "It's cause of me anyway. It's my fault."

"What? How is it your fault? You didn't do anything!"

"Don't you see, Soda?"

"See what?"

"It's because of that flashback I had. I'm the one who can't get over-" Steve's voice trembled, and he fought to steady it. "She was feeling bad cause of me."

Soda let his eyes drift to Steve, as he shook his head. "No, don't do that to yourself."

"What else am I supposed to think? This happened the next day! And right after she threw it back up in my face. Right after she said she was tired of feeling bad cause of what happened when I was a kid."

"Steve, no, it's-"

"It is! Don't try to tell me it's not my fault!" Steve's voice shook, even as it got louder. "I'm the one who freaked out!"

Soda gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I have to stop this car." He spotted a gas station not too far ahead.

"No, Sodapop." Steve looked around, his eyes wildly taking in his surroundings. "Keep driving. I want to get as far away as possible. Please."

Soda pulled the car into the back of the gas station parking lot, coming to a stop, then turning to fully face Steve. "No! You're going to listen to me. Don't you dare blame yourself. It was Evie's choice to kiss that guy, and that was wrong!"

"But she wouldn't have felt upset or scared or any of that if I wasn't so fucked up! Maybe she needs to find someone who's not!" Steve started to pull on the door handle. "If you won't drive, I'll walk."

"Hell, no!" Soda grabbed Steve's arm, holding onto it. "We're not just down the street, and you already said you don't know what you would do alone."

Steve let himself fall back against the seat, before speaking in a voice so low, it was nearly a whisper. "I'm so messed up, she didn't want me anymore."

Soda let go of Steve's arm. "Stevie, that's not true. You know that's not true."

The tears Steve had been keeping back since he talked to Evie finally escaped. "But it must be. Why else would she have done that now?" He felt a heaviness in his chest, as a sob began to break free.

Soda reached over and pulled Steve close, wrapping his arms around him. "Just let it out. That's what you need right now."

Steve hid his face in Soda's shoulder, tears soaking his shirt. "It's Evie, man. She supposed to love me, but she can't cause I can't get over the past."

"It's not your fault, buddy." Soda tightened his hold when he heard his friend cry harder. "Please believe me."

"But she's been so good to me. It's not her, so it must be me. I'd do anything for her and-" Steve stopped, feeling more tears, as another sob racked his chest. He held onto Soda.

"I know you would. I don't think this means she doesn't still care about you either. It just means she messed up."

"Still hurts like hell though."

"I know, man."

"I just feel like if I hadn't freaked out, none of this would have happened." Steve shook his head, as he pulled away, tears still on his face.

Soda rubbed his back. "I wish you weren't blaming yourself."

"I don't even know what to do now, Soda."

"I'm not sure either. But for now, why don't we just drive home?"

* * *

_"If you don't want to tell me, it's okay, but I've noticed something," Irene said, as she sat down next to Evie._

_ Evie looked up at her mom, still holding the pencil she was using to write a letter to Steve. "What, Mom?"_

_ "You told me you were going to Patricia's house yesterday to babysit and that you were going to stop by Steve's. It seems like you've been upset since you got home."_

_ Evie sighed and put down the pencil, then folded up the paper. "Steve broke up with me."_

_ "What? Why?"_

_ "It's been really hard for me to understand, but I guess he just feels so bad about himself, he can't be with anyone right now. I keep thinking about everything he said to me, and that's the only way it makes any sense."_

_ "I'm sorry, honey. Did something else happen? I have to say I don't think it's right for him to do that to you."_

_ "It's because of the abuse, Mom. It breaks my heart, but I know he isn't trying to hurt me." Evie held up the letter. "That's why I'm writing this. He doesn't want to talk, but I have plenty I need to say."_

_ Irene rubbed Evie's back, then took her hand in her own. "It's terrible he's struggling that much with whatever happened to him. Before now, I never heard you talk about anything Steve said or did hurting you. This must be hard for you. I'm not going to tell you not to give him the letter, but maybe you should give him some time too, before you do anything else."_

_ "I'm just going to leave it somewhere for him. I know he doesn't really want to see me, so I won't make him. I do care about him. And it seems like he just keeps having a harder time. Thinking about it kind of makes me understand why he said he can't make me see him like that."_

_ Irene squeezed Evie's hand, then released her. "Evie, is Steve doing anything to cope with all this?"_

_ "He tried. There's this counselor he went to see, but he left without really telling her anything. I'm not sure why. He's been talking to his dad and to Soda some, but I don't think he's talked through everything."_

_ "I don't know what happened, but that can't be easy to talk about, sweetie. This was something he hasn't talked about before, right?"_

_ "Yeah. I'm so worried about him. I'm not even angry. I can't make myself angry at him when he's hurting like that. You should've heard him, Mom. I never thought Steve could feel so bad about himself. He's ashamed, like he did something wrong." Evie paused, unfolding the letter and reading over part of what she had written. "He just sounded so broken. I wish I knew how to make him see he's not different to me. I love him, no matter what happened back then."_

_ "I can't say I know Steve very well, but from what I have seen, that doesn't sound like him at all. What did happen? What did he tell you?"_

_ Evie nodded. "Not a lot. But yeah, he told me. It was so hard for him to say. Mom, he was sexually abused. He didn't use that term, but I know that's what it is."_

_ Irene closed her eyes and shook her head, then took Evie's hand in her own once more. "That's awful. No wonder he's struggling."_

_ "It was a couple of years after his mom died, so it was a long time ago, but it was a secret. His dad always knew, but it something they didn't talk about. So Steve has all these memories and feelings in him that no one knows too much about even now. It sounds like it's on his mind all the time. That's why he feels like he's reliving what happened and has the panic attacks."_

_ "I can't even say how terrible, how traumatic, that must have been for him and still must be. But I'm sure he'll come around and deal with it all. He's going to have to." Irene planted a kiss on Evie's forehead, before standing up. "Let me know if you want to talk anymore. I'm going to see if I can get some work done."_

_ Evie nodded and picked up her pencil, going back to the letter._

_ Irene went into her bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She put her hand to her chest. "That poor kid. Why do people do things to hurt innocent children?"_

* * *

Evie hadn't known exactly what to expect if Steve found out about her kissing Tommy, but she hadn't anticipated that reaction. He didn't really seem angry, just stunned and even detached. When he had said this happened because of the incident that occurred when they almost slept together, Evie noticed it was a statement, not a question. Steve sounded so certain.

When Steve pulled his hand away from Evie, she felt her heart sink further than it already had. She hurt Steve, and it hardly seemed to matter how much she hadn't wanted to cause him any more pain. The sadness had been clear in Steve's voice, and he'd begun to seem less detached when he said he thought she loved him more than that. Evie had found herself unable to respond then. He had driven her home after that, not saying another word, as if afraid his feelings might pull him under if he dared to speak again.

I do love Steve, Evie thought. But of course he feels that way. Going to a party and dancing with, then kissing a complete stranger doesn't exactly say, "I love you." As she picked up the phone, she thought again of how Steve had seemed to be shutting down, trying not to feel. Evie had been trying to do the same thing at the party, and she succeeded too, if only just long enough to make a mistake she wished she could take back. It scared her for Steve to sound like he had, and Evie hoped he wouldn't succeed in numbing himself to the emotions she knew must be trying to surface underneath the calm, controlled reaction he'd shown.

Evie dialed Patricia's number, hoping her friend would be home. She needed to talk to someone. She had no idea how to fix this, or if it even could be fixed. She couldn't go back in time and make herself stay away from that party or tell Tommy she has a boyfriend. If Evie could go back in time, she'd go farther than that anyway. She would go back to the moment just before Steve had frozen beneath her touch and pull herself away, stopping those memories from overtaking him and stopping the emotions she had experienced since then.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve stared out the window, as Soda drove. He hadn't wanted to feel this guilt or shame again, but here it was. He hadn't let Evie see it, but Soda definitely did with the things he said on the road and in that parking lot.

"If I tell you something, will you just listen?" Soda asked.

Steve kept staring out the window. "Okay."

"I just want you to know that what happened with Evie... Well, it makes sense that you weren't ready. I think there are a lot of reasons for that, and it all makes sense."

Steve didn't respond, thinking of the memories haunting him that had made him pull away from Evie, of the emotions that may never completely heal. He knew Soda was right, but thinking about those reasons made him afraid he would cry again.

"I didn't think you'd take it so seriously when I told you to just listen." Soda grinned at Steve, briefly glancing at his friend. The grin slipped from his face, seeing Steve's nearly blank expression. "I know something else too."

"Oh?" Steve blinked, but still didn't look toward Soda.

"You can go easy on yourself." Soda kept his eyes on the road, as he spoke. "Remember what you told me that one night about a week ago? You're still trying to understand stuff and come to terms with a load of bad memories. Clara-" He paused, noticing Steve flinch at the name.

"I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting it."

Soda frowned. "Stevie, don't apologize for that."

"But it's all I know to do."

"I was just going to say that she was someone who should've cared about you, even made you think she did, and she hurt you so damn bad. That's another thing you're trying to come to terms with. My point is you're still dealing with a lot and trying to get it. You told me that's helping you too."

"Apparently not enough."

Soda sighed, as he braked at a red light. "We're almost home. What do you want to do?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that."

"I do, or I wouldn't have asked. What are you thinking, buddy?" The light turned green, and Soda drove forward again.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Okay. I'm going to drive to your house then."

Steve went back to staring out the window, but he wasn't seeing anything. He hardly even noticed when they pulled into his driveway. He stared at his house, not moving to get out of the car.

"Steve?" Soda said, leaning forward to try to meet his friend's eyes, after turning off the car. He handed Steve the keys and saw his hands shaking as he took them.

"Soda?" Steve turned, letting his eyes lock with his friend's gaze.

"Yeah?" Soda watched Steve, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

A moment passed, and Steve swallowed, a coldness growing inside of him. "Please stay. Don't leave me alone."

* * *

_Nicholas paced the living room, the T.V. playing in the background. Yet, the only thing he could hear was Steve's voice when he had been whispering to himself and when he said there was too much in his head. Nicholas knew what he meant, and he'd felt so powerless. Even as he spoke, trying to reassure Steve, he had been thinking his own calm words of encouragement seemed so lacking in the face of his son's distress. Steve had said he didn't know how much Nicholas could do about the memories that pulled him back in time, and this truth made a sense of helplessness fall over him._

_ When Steve had refused to stay, saying he couldn't be there right now, Nicholas was torn between giving him space and hanging onto him. But he'd let his son go, only praying Steve would be careful. He was so worried now and wished he had tried harder, but he just had to wait and hope Steve was safe, wherever he had decided to go._

_ "He just needed to calm down," Nicholas told himself. "He's so overwhelmed and frustrated. I hate seeing him hurt, and I would do anything to help. But what else can I do? God, please keep my son safe," he prayed. "Take care of him."_

_ Nicholas waited only a little while longer before he picked up the phone and dialed the Curtis' number. He clutched the receiver in his hand, his grip tightening with the anxiety that kept rising. The line rang only a few times before Nicholas heard Darry Curtis' voice._

_ "Darry, it's Nicholas Randle. Is Steve over there? He left earlier tonight. He kept saying he just couldn't be home right now, and-"_

_ "Slow down. He's here," Darry's voice said._

_ Nicholas let out a breath. "I've been so worried. Is he okay?"_

_ "Yeah, he's okay. He's asleep on my couch. Looks like he's been in a fight, but I'm pretty sure he's had worse."_

_ "Thanks, Darry. Thanks for always having his back, for watching out for him."_

_ "No problem. I'll tell him you called, okay?"_

_ "Please. Bye, Darry." Nicholas loosened his grip on the receiver, as he set it down in its cradle, letting out another breath. Thank God, he thought. He turned his gaze to the living room window, noticing the moon and the stars. "Thank you for watching out for our son, Rose."_

* * *

Nicholas was feeling an uneasiness begin to overcome him, and he couldn't identify the cause. Maybe it was because he'd given in to the temptation of a bottle of whiskey the night before? He hadn't had much, but still. He did drink, even knowing the risk he wouldn't have just one glass.

Nicholas turned out of the grocery store parking lot, driving toward his house. He hoped Steve would be home. As understanding as his son had been last night, he felt he owed him an apology. In fact, the certainty with which Steve had told him to pour the alcohol out and start over made him want to express his remorse even more.

Nicholas couldn't help but smile. He wasn't proud of himself for stumbling, but he was proud of Steve for the compassion he'd shown, for the way he had spoken the truth in love. His son's response spoke volumes about how their relationship had grown. Steve had forgiven him for the past and also forgiven him for his weakness in the moment.

He has faith in me, Nicholas thought. That's why he said to pour it out and start over, why he reminded me of my promise to always be there when he needs me. He knows I want to be there for him too, and he's counting on that.

Nicholas pulled his car into the driveway, noticing Steve's car was there too. He was just about to go inside when he glanced over at the passenger seat and noticed the Bible that had been there since he last went to the church. Nicholas picked it up, deciding he should take it inside.

* * *

Steve took a long drag off his cigarette, inhaling the smoke, then slowly exhaling. "I can't be alone right now. I really can't."

"I wasn't going anywhere, even before you asked me to stay," Soda said, from his place beside his friend on the back porch.

Steve nodded and let himself lean forward, his elbows on the railing. He stared out at the yard, but felt disconnected from what was right in front of him. He let the cigarette dangle from his lips for a moment before he put it out and tossed it away. He laid his head down on his arms.

Soda leaned on the railing, his back against it, watching Steve. "If you still want to talk, we can. We don't have to, but just saying."

"My head is really messed up."

"You're just hurting, man."

"Yeah. That too." Steve lifted his head and turned it, meeting Soda's gaze, his eyes not blinking. "You weren't wrong before."

"About what? What do you mean?"

Steve let his arms drop to his sides before shaking his head. "Never mind." He turned around, beginning to walk inside.

Soda reached for Steve's shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Steve's eyes dropped to the ground. He nodded, his voice quiet. "I'm sure. Let's go inside."

"All right." Soda followed Steve into the house.

"What's up, you two?" Nicholas asked, from the kitchen, when he saw Steve and Soda. "Hey, Son, I'm really sorry about last night. I shouldn't be drinking at all."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Steve said, as he sat down at the table.

"Thanks. For not being mad at me, I mean. I wouldn't blame you if you were," Nicholas said, sitting across from Steve. "Thanks for being so good about it."

"You still been reading that?" Steve asked, gesturing to the Bible that lay open on the table, a green ribbon bookmark holding Nicholas' last place.

Nicholas grinned. "Yeah, it just seems like there's something comforting and some guidance in it."

"Never mind. I shouldn't have asked," Steve said.

"Steve, I think I'm going to head home," Soda said. "But if you need me-" He paused, noticing Steve was staring at the open Bible and not moving at all. "Steve? You hear me?"

"What is it, Son?" Nicholas asked, looking from Steve to Soda, then back again.

"Mom's handwriting," Steve said, his gaze still on the Bible, as he pulled it closer to him.

"Yeah. It was hers," Nicholas said. "You knew that."

Steve touched the page, the printed words and Rose's writing swimming in front of his eyes, as Nicholas shared a look with Soda.

Before either of them could say anything else, Steve slammed the Bible closed.

Soda spoke first. "Steve, what-"

"Why did God take Mom? Why did he let any of it happen, Dad?" Steve asked, his voice low, but steady. "Can you tell me that? Is that answer in here?"

Nicholas tried to speak. "Steve, I-"

Steve spoke again, more questions pouring out of him."Where was God when you met Clara? Where was he when she was here? He knows everything, right?"

"He does." Nicholas tried to explain what he did know, in the face of questions without answers. "But-"

"He must've known her plan when she was here," Steve said, his eyes meeting Nicholas'. "So why didn't he stop her?"

Nicholas let his mouth drop open, his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed. "I don't know."

When Steve spoke again, his voice was still quiet, but wavered slightly, his gaze going from Nicholas to Soda. "How can I trust him when he's letting me feel like this right now?"

Soda stood frozen to his spot. "Buddy, we're here for you, okay?"

"Did something happen today, Son? How are you feeling right now?" Nicholas asked, leaning forward and resting a hand on Steve's arm.

"I've tried and tried," Steve said. "But somehow, it's never enough. It all still comes back, no matter what I do."

Soda stepped forward, pulling up another chair, to sit on Steve's other side. "Buddy, what happened with Evie, that doesn't mean you're not doing enough or trying enough. It just means what you've said before. You can't make those memories go away."

"It's not just the memories," Steve said, as he stood up, his back to Soda and Nicholas.

"Then, what is it?" Nicholas asked.

Steve didn't turn around, only stared blankly at the wall above the counter, his eyes blinking rapidly. "These same feelings. They always come back. All of them."

"What can I do, Son?" Nicholas spoke again.

Steve turned around and opened the Bible back to where it was bookmarked with the green ribbon. "I'm not sure, Dad." He let his eyes trace over the printed scripture and his mom's handwritten additions. "I'm not sure at all." He shook his head, turning away again. "I'll be outside."

Nicholas and Soda heard the front door open and close.

"No wonder he said it's hard for him to think about God," Nicholas said. "I wish I could answer his questions, but I can't."

Soda closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "I know there has to be more to that than this, but he found out today that Evie kissed some guy."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"He showed up at my house and threw his car keys at me and just told me to drive. So I did. It took almost half an hour before he told me. And after he did..." Soda took it a deep breath, then let it out. "Man, that'd break anybody's heart. I've only seen him anything like that one other time."

"Damn." Nicholas looked down, holding his head in both hands. "And after what just happened that one night."

"Exactly."

Nicholas pulled the Bible closer to see the page Steve had been looking at and saw it was the page he had started to read earlier, beginning with Psalm 23.

"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

Next to the Psalm passage were Rose's notes: "He gives me rest. He gives me life. Even in darkness, I am comforted."

* * *

Evie read over the first two paragraphs of her English essay. She sighed, before scanning the list of possible topics again. I'm just not into this right now, she thought. Patricia hadn't picked up the phone when she called earlier. Actually, Evie had second thoughts about calling her friend right now anyway. There was only so much she could tell her.

Evie heard a noise coming from the direction of the kitchen and closed her English notebook. She got up and left her bedroom, wondering if it was her mom she had heard.

"Hi, honey," Irene said, when she saw Evie. She pulled a new watering can and hose from bag she'd just brought inside.

"Mom, are you busy?" Evie asked.

"I wanted to start dinner before your dad gets home, but that won't take long. He called earlier to tell me he's going to be a little late anyway."

"Mom, I messed up, and I don't know how to fix it. I apologized and- I don't know. I tried to explain, but I don't know what else I should do."

Irene pulled two glasses from a cabinet and filled both with water, handing one to Evie. "Back up. What happened?"

Evie took a gulp of water, then spoke quickly, hardly taking a breath. "I was at a party Saturday night and met this guy. He asked me to dance, so we did. But that didn't mean anything. Then, we were talking, and I just got caught up. I kissed him."

Irene took Evie's arm and guided her to the couch. "I think you should sit down, Evie." She set her own glass of water on the table in front of them, then took the glass from Evie, also setting it down.

Evie continued explaining, as her mom settled beside her."But that kiss didn't mean anything either. I was just upset and wanting to forget and stop feeling, and he was there and there was the music and-"

Irene rested her elbow on the arm of the couch and tilted her head to look at her daughter."Wanting to forget what? What were you upset about?"

"Steve. He's kind of been having a hard time again, and I don't know how to handle it. I mean, I knew he couldn't just be over what happened when he was a kid, but he's been doing okay when we kissed or touched or whatever lately. He's had a hard time with that before."

"You're upset because he's having a hard time with that again?"

"He had a flashback, and the memories of the abuse were too much." Evie leaned forward and rested her face in her hands, then turned her head to look at Irene. "He was sitting there telling himself it was just me, like it was so real for him again."

"So what did you do?"

"Steve told me to just be there with him, and so that's what I did. He was shaking so much. It was like he'd been about to panic. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Of course you didn't." Irene reached out and ran her fingers through Evie's hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. "He's been like this before? Where it feels that real?"

Evie nodded. "Yeah, it has happened a lot. At different times. I don't think there's even any one reason for it."

"So not just if you touch him?"

Evie sat up straighter, shaking her head. "No. He told me about it when we weren't even exactly seeing each other. But that time, I know it was because of me, and I even said some things to him that I wish I hadn't because I was so upset.

"Look at me, Evie," Irene said as she scooted closer, then waited for her daughter's eyes that had filled with tears to meet her gaze. "It's not because of you. It's because someone hurt him, and that's not something his mind can totally let go. You are not to blame for that any more than he is."

"But I was so scared of hurting him, then I did, and now, I hurt him even more. I didn't mean for him to find out I kissed that guy, but he did."

Irene put her hand over Evie's. "So what did he say?"

"That he thought I loved him more than that. But he didn't seem mad, just stunned or something. I guess before all this happened, I thought he was better. Like the past might not matter so much anymore." Tears slid down Evie's face. "And now, Steve thinks that what happened at the party was just because he had the flashback, but it's not."

Irene pulled Evie into her arms and held her. "Honey, this kind of stuff isn't that easy. It doesn't go away, even when you learn to live with it. Even if it's not constantly on Steve's mind now, it still happened, and it's still real for him. You guys are also just kids, and you're handling something many adults couldn't."

Evie rested her head on her mom's shoulder, squeezing her back. "I know, and you were right. I expected the healing he's done to be perfect. I didn't know what to do when I saw it isn't."


	10. Chapter 10

_If Steve thinks I'm actually going to leave him alone right now, he has gone crazy, Soda thought, as he closed his best friend's bedroom door. He did need to get ready for work, but he had plenty of time. All he needed to do was change clothes anyway. He eyed the door for a few moments, then went down the hall and stepped out onto the back porch. He told me leave him alone, Soda thought. So I did. I'll go home soon enough. He sat down on the steps and turned sideways to lean against the railing and look through the screen door, not sure if Steve would stay in his room. _

_ He has to be scared, Soda thought, but of course he is! He could see that Steve was only going to fight him today, so he had thrown the truth at him over and over, praying it would hit a target. Soda hadn't planned to bring up the incident when Steve had seen Clara staring at him, but he needed his friend to know how much he wanted to help. Soda wanted him to know that he meant every word of what he said at the cemetery fountain, including that he loved Steve just like his own brothers. He wasn't just saying things to hurt him or even to try to make him feel better. Soda was telling Steve what he needed to hear, even if it meant taking the risk that he would fight harder._

_ Soda saw Steve through the screen door and got just a little closer, but still stayed out of sight. He only wanted to make sure Steve was okay for the moment, both because of the way he had seemed to get worse the last couple of days and because of the scare just before he had gone to see the counselor. Soda believed Steve when he said he hadn't been planning on killing himself the day he had been so intent on being alone. Still, the way he talked sounded bad, even hopeless, and today sure wasn't any better. _

_ Soda didn't believe Steve was lying either time when he said he didn't want to die, but it scared him to see his best friend trying to push everyone away. He was in so much pain, yet he refused to tell anyone more about the memories in his head, choosing instead to drink and lash out at those who cared about him._

_ Soda looked through the screen door once more, noticing Steve going back in the direction of his bedroom. Pulling his eyes away, Soda decided he better go. He got to his feet and went down the steps, then opened the gate surrounding the backyard. He let his gaze linger on the house for a moment, as he went through the gate and pulled it closed. Maybe his dad can get through to him, Soda thought. Someone has to get him to talk before he destroys himself, trying to deal with those memories._

* * *

"Before I go home, I think there's something I should tell you," Soda said.

"Go on, Sodapop. I'm listening," Nicholas said, closing the Bible once more, leaving the green ribbon bookmark in place.

"Steve kept saying he couldn't be alone. First thing he said today was he didn't know what he would do alone right now."

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair, then rested his forehead in his hand, sighing. "Thanks for telling me."

"I'm not sure why he said that, but it bothered me, and I thought you'd want to know. Especially when we got here, and he told me please don't leave him alone. Like I was going to anyway." Soda opened the door. "I'll see you later," he said to Nicholas, before letting the door close, as he stepped outside.

Steve didn't move, his chin resting on his hands, as he sat on the porch swing.

Soda came closer to him. "Steve, I feel like it's a dumb question, but are you okay?'

"I just can't believe these last few days."

Soda sat down next to Steve. "Man, I'm really out of things to say today."

Steve sat up straight and looked at Soda then, a small grin on his face. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Soda smiled. "Hey!"

"Yeah, I guess I'm still in here somewhere." Steve leaned his head against the back of the swing. "I'm just not sure where."

"You're going to figure it out. Before I go, I want to remind you of something."

Steve still leaned his head back and had closed his eyes. "What's that?"

"Something I said before." Soda's voice got softer. "Just like my own brothers. Remember that."

* * *

Nicholas was on his knees on his bedroom floor, the bed his makeshift altar. He leaned his head against it, turning his face to the window, as he prayed."I hope he knows I'd have given anything to protect him then, if I'd known what she really was. Maybe I should be thankful I caught her when I did, but it shouldn't have happened at all. God, why did I trust her?"

Nicholas hadn't heard the door open, or seen Steve peek in at him. He closed his eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto the bed sheets that he clenched in his fists. He didn't see Steve still standing there, holding onto the door. Nicholas prayed again, this time in a whisper. "Why didn't I see it? Why did I let it happen?"

Nicholas felt a hand on his back and turned his head, coming face to face with Steve, who had kneeled down next to him. "Dad, don't do this to yourself," Nicholas heard his son tell him. "The things I said tonight weren't because of you."

Nicholas felt Steve's arms go around him and hold him tightly. He let himself rest in his son's embrace, his head on his shoulder, as he heard him speak again. "I don't know the answers to my own questions about what God was up to. But you trusted her because she pretended to care about both of us."

Nicholas closed his eyes, tears still making their way down his face, as he held onto his son and listened to Steve's voice continue to answer the questions he had prayed. "You didn't see it because she didn't want you to, and she knew what she was doing."

Nicholas took in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He felt Steve pull away slightly, then found himself looking into his son's eyes, as he spoke once more in reply to his prayer. "I know you would've protected me if you had known. I also know you didn't let it happen, Dad."

* * *

"Hey, Soda, you ready to go? Steve's car is outside," Darry yelled across the house.

Steve opened the front door. "And Steve himself is in your doorway," he said, stepping inside.

Darry looked at his watch. "Oh. I thought you were kind of early."

"Yeah, just wanted to hang out for a minute," Steve said, as he walked past Darry and down the hall. "Where are you, Soda?"

"In here, man," Soda replied from his bedroom, as he pulled on his DX shirt, buttoning it up.

Steve closed Soda's door before speaking. "Listen, about yesterday-"

Soda looked up from the last button. "Don't."

"But I-"

Soda leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. "I said don't. I'm not going to listen to you apologize."

Steve sighed, his shoulders dropping. "So what can I say?"

"Anything, but telling me you're sorry. Cause you know what? I'm ain't sorry."

"Huh?"

"I'm not glad about what happened or about how you're feeling, but I'm glad you came and got me, and you don't have to feel bad about anything you said in the car or at your house. Damn, any time you think you shouldn't be alone with all that, please always tell someone."

Steve put his hand on the door knob, swallowing. "Thanks, Soda."

Soda let his arms drop, grinning. "No problem. Now, come on, let's go before we're both late."

* * *

"Steve, can we talk?" Evie asked, as she stood in front of Steve's car.

Steve leaned against the driver's side door, putting his keys in his pocket. "I just don't know what to say."

"Are you mad at me?" Evie got a little closer, standing beside Steve.

"No. Believe me, that'd be a lot simpler."

Evie touched Steve's arm. "I really am sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"I know." Steve let himself look into Evie's eyes. "I want you to know that as upset as I've been about what happened, this I'm feeling now isn't just about that."

"Okay. Is there anything I can do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't think so."

Evie dropped her hand from his arm. "I need to get back inside. My lunch is over, and I left all my stuff in my locker. But will you meet me at the creek after school, so we can talk?"

"Yeah. Sure." Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. "I have my appointment today, so it'll be a little later though."

Evie started to lean forward to kiss Steve on the cheek, but she changed her mind, turning around to head inside the school building.

* * *

_"Steve, I want to remind you of something that's going to be very important to remember," Laura said. "This is the last thing before we end today, but I think it's critical for you."_

_ Steve nodded, holding the notebook she had given him in his lap. "Okay."_

_ "You were a child doing only whatever you could to cope, and you probably had a range of emotions, much like you do now. I want you to remember that there's nothing wrong with any reaction you had. Every single thought in your mind and every emotion you experienced was simply part of trying to survive not just one traumatic event, but a series of them."_

_ Steve brought his hand to his stomach, as he felt it turn. He clutched the notebook tighter with his other hand, looking down at it._

_ "You were a child who suffered sexual abuse, and that's traumatic enough on its own, but it was further complicated by Clara's death and your father's way of handling everything afterwards. So anything you felt then and-" Laura paused. "Are you okay?"_

_ Steve was taking several deep breaths one after the other, and his hand clutched his stomach, feeling waves of nausea rippling through his body. "I'm just overwhelmed with everything."_

_ "Of course. It's perfectly normal and understandable to feel that way too. Why don't you go ahead and go?" Laura smiled, as she stood to her feet. "I'll see you next week."_

_ Steve stood up with the notebook in his hand, and the ache in his stomach was still growing. He nodded at Laura. "All right."_

* * *

"So it sounds like you've been doing a lot of sharing with people who care about you," Laura said, sitting in her chair across from Steve with her legs crossed.

"Yeah. I guess I have," Steve said, looking at Laura, then at his lap. "I don't know what I would have done lately if I couldn't talk to them. I'm supposed to meet Evie and talk to her after I'm done here."

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"I guess so. I just don't know if she really wants to be with me anymore. After what happened, I don't know why she would. She sees how messed up I really am. Everything is different now. That's why she had to go and kiss someone else. I bet he's not like me."

"Steve, you told me you had a flashback, then about everything after." Laura leaned forward, bringing her hands together. "Go back to that night."

"What about it?" Steve brought one arm over his chest, squeezing his other arm, as he looked at Laura. "You want to know what was in the memories?"

"Well, yes, but go back first to the moments just before you pulled away from Evie. Tell me exactly what was happening."

Steve bit his lower lip. "I remember the second I froze."

"Okay." Laura nodded, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me about it."

* * *

Steve picked up a rock, tossing it into the creek. He watched the water ripple in the sunlight, the insight Laura had helped him find still in the front of his thoughts. He sat down in the grass up under the branches of a tree, his back against the trunk. Steve felt a cool breeze and saw the creek moving along with the air, the water flowing easily. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting himself rest.

Steve had delved into so much with Laura today, linking the moment he had frozen with the past memories. He thought he understood before, but she helped him know exactly why the memories of Clara's abuse were triggered at that time.

Steve had almost told Laura even more, making another connection during their discussion. Yet, he had stopped himself, his chest clenching with fear and a wave of unshakable shame. He couldn't go deeper, knowing what was there would be so tough and confusing to confront. He decided to keep the other insight to himself.

Just before Steve left, Laura had asked him if there was anything else he wanted to talk about. There was something else he did believe he should tell her, that he, in fact, should have told her when she specifically asked about it once before. Yet, that was also a place he didn't feel ready to go, even if he shouldn't be fighting this alone. Steve didn't know if he could form the words to give his thoughts a voice, and he wondered if giving them one would actually help. A sense of apprehension had come over him, making him decide against revealing more, so he had told Laura that was all for now.

Steve felt another breeze at the same time a cold shiver made its way through him, making goose bumps appear on his skin. He opened his eyes, staring at the creek, wondering if the water ever got a chance to just be calm, just be still.

He turned his head and saw Evie approaching him. "Hey."

"Hi," Evie said, as she sat down next to Steve, facing the creek.

"Evie, I still don't know what to say."

Evie touched Steve's arm, letting her hand rest there. "Then, just listen. I really do care about you. I'm still sorry for the things I said and did that hurt you. I'd take it all back if I could, and I wish I could make every pain you've ever felt go away."

"It's nice you want to fix me, but are you sure you still want to be with me?"

"I don't want to fix you because you're not broken, and I do still want to be with you. I know I haven't made it seem that way lately, have I?"

Steve didn't respond, the sun casting his shadow on the grass in front of the tree. He moved his eyes from the ground to the rippling sunlit water, feeling Evie's hand still on his arm. The water was never still, yet her touch felt good to him.

* * *

Nicholas opened the front door and saw Steve on the porch swing. A textbook was in his lap, but his head was turned, facing the yard, where clouds had begun to gather in the sky.

Nicholas stepped forward, the swing moving, as he settled next to Steve. "You all right, Son?"

Steve nodded. "I guess." He still didn't turn to look at Nicholas. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong."

Steve closed the textbook and set it on the ground next to the swing. "I mean for the things I said about God."

"It's okay to ask questions, Steve."

Steve glanced at his dad briefly, then turned his eyes back to the yard, noticing drops of rain begin to fall. "It's not that I don't believe. I do, or I think I wouldn't ask what I did."

"God can handle it, Son. I can too, even though I don't have the answers. Thank you for being there for me last night. It means a lot. I needed to hear the things you told me."

"I think I needed to say them too. Laura and me have talked about putting the blame where it belongs." Steve looked at Nicholas, meeting his eyes. "And that's on Clara. Not on me or you."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. It's really important for you. It another thing that tells me you're stronger, that you're healing." Nicholas laid an arm across Steve's shoulders.

"Another thing?"

"Yeah. If you want to know more, I heard what I thought was a really important one yesterday too."

Steve watched the rain fall. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Soda told me about what happened with Evie yesterday."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "My girlfriend kissing another guy tells you I'm healing?"

Nicholas grinned, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "No. I mean he told me that, then said you came and got him, that you guys went for a drive."

"I practically kidnapped him."

"Whatever you call it, it's better than handling it alone and keeping pain inside when it's too much."

"He tell you what I said?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No. Just that you were really upset."

"It was like the farther away we drove, the more I was able to say. I felt so bad, and once I started crying, I thought I'd never stop."

"The only thing Soda told me you said was about being alone."

Steve felt himself stiffen beneath Nicholas' arm that still laid across his shoulders. "Yeah. I should've known he would mention that to you."

"You've told me before that you didn't want to be by yourself. It's a good thing to say something if you don't want to be alone for some reason, Son."

Steve laid his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "I know, Dad." He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the steady rainfall.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Steve didn't open his eyes, as he shook his head. "Not right now."

Nicholas sighed, giving his son a gentle squeeze. "Okay." He leaned his head back, letting it rest on the swing. He looked at Steve for a few moments, then turned his eyes to the sky, seeing the rain begin to pour.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve opened his locker and was about to pull out his history textbook when a card slid out, falling to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, looking at the front. It had a picture of the moon and stars.

"Must be from Evie," Steve said, as he opened the card and saw she had signed it just below the text that read, "You don't need to promise me the moon at the stars. Just promise me you will stand under them with me forever."

"Hey, Steve! What's up, man?" TwoBit said, coming to stand next to his buddy.

"Just looking at this card Evie left me." Steve pulled his history textbook out and put the card inside it, then slammed his locker shut.

TwoBit raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"

Steve shook his head, eyes drifting down. "Please don't, TwoBit."

TwoBit leaned up against the lockers, watching Steve. "Are you okay?"

"I'm trying to be."

* * *

Nicholas knocked on the window of Darry's truck that was in the DX station's parking lot.

Soda rolled the window down. "Hey, what brings you here? Darry and me just ate lunch." He held up a paper sack.

"I'll take that, little buddy." Darry grabbed the paper sack and got out of the truck, going toward a trash can.

"I just had some time and wanted to ask you something since you probably see Steve as much as I do," Nicholas said.

Soda nodded and opened the truck's door, sliding out just as Darry returned.

"Good seeing you for a minute, Nicholas," Darry said, as he got behind the wheel. "I need to get back, Soda, but I'll see you later." He waved, starting the truck, while Nicholas nodded at him.

"Bye, Dar," Soda said, waving to his brother.

"I've noticed something the last couple of days and just wondered if anyone else could see it," Nicholas said. "Maybe I'm way off, but I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't worry about it. He'll be okay. I-"

Soda held up his hands. "Slow down. What did you notice?"

"Sometimes, I've thought Steve seems too calm, like he's numb or trying to be."

"He has looked like he was in shock to me. I told him that. He said he wanted to stay that way."

"So it's not just me." Nicholas ran his hands down his face.

"Not all the time, but yeah, I see what you're saying. When we were in the car a couple of days ago, it was like whatever that is wore off for a little while though. Just long enough to tell me what he was feeling, you know? Then, he looked blank or something. I'm not sure how to put it."

"When he was talking about God and asking all those questions, I kept waiting for some anger..." Nicholas shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Or just something."

"Yeah." Soda took his DX cap off, holding it in his hands, as his eyebrows knit together. "I know what you're talking about. It was like he was saying all of that about feelings coming back and about God without really feeling any of it."

"Last night, I was thinking the same thing. He seemed kind of detached, I guess."

Soda looked toward the door of the station, then turned back to Nicholas. "So do you think it means something?"

"Maybe he's trying not to feel." Nicholas pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. "Or trying to control it. I hate that I was the one who once encouraged him to do that."

"But you're not now. That could make sense though." Soda put his cap back on his head. "Maybe you should ask him about it. He might not even know he seems that way."

* * *

"Hey, Randle! You look like you've seen a ghost or something!"

Steve looked up from his backpack that he had just started to zip up, having realized moments before that he was short of breath. He just didn't know he looked it. "Huh?"

"You don't look too good." The guy Steve knew as Scott spoke again.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine." He finished zipping up the backpack, then started to pick it up, then felt lightheaded. He lowered himself back into his seat, beginning to breathe too quickly.

"You okay?" Scott asked.

"I'm fine." Steve tried to take in a deep breath and found he couldn't, then noticed his hands were also shaking. "Get lost, Scott."

The other boy shrugged. "If you say so."

Steve leaned forward, trying again to take deep breaths, as he covered his face with his hands. He didn't see Scott go up to Mr. Grant in the back of the classroom and tell him he should check on him.

"Steve? Are you okay?"

Steve looked up, realizing Mr. Grant stood in front of him. "It's a panic attack," he managed to say, before laying his head down on the desk.

"Is there anything I can do? Do I need to find the nurse?"

Steve closed his eyes, feeling the coolness of the desk on his face. "No. I just need to breathe." He noticed his hands felt numb, as his heart pounded.

Mr. Grant leaned on the desk behind him, watching his student. "This has happened before then?"

Steve nodded, not lifting his head. "Been a little while, but yeah." He took a deep breath, finding it was getting a bit easier to take in air. He sat up, putting his hand on his chest.

Mr. Grant glanced at the open classroom door. "Are you sure I shouldn't find someone to help?"

Steve nodded. "I'm sure." He took another breath, reminding himself to draw air in slowly. "Please don't. If people freak out, it'll be worse."

"All right. Sit here as long as you need."

Steve's head spun, even as his breathing began to even out. "Thanks. I do need a few minutes." He let his hand drop from his chest to his stomach. He continued to take in slow, deep breaths, remembering how he'd done this before.

"That seems better."

"It is." Steve felt himself start to relax, the dizziness ebbing away and the feeling returning to his hands, as he got in enough air with each breath. "Trust me. I think it looks worse than it is."

"I sure hope so. You okay now?"

"I think so. I still feel kind of funny, but I can breathe okay."

Mr. Grant rubbed the back of his neck. "I feel kind of funny myself just standing here when one of my students can't breathe."

"Nah. You were calm. That's what helps."

* * *

"Steve!" Evie yelled, as she came up to his car. "Did you get my card?"

"Yeah, I did," Steve said through the mostly open window, his hands on the steering wheel. He smiled a little. "Thanks."

Evie fidgeted with the purse strap on her shoulder. "So, um, are we still going out tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

Evie put her hand on the window, as she looked at Steve. "I really want to. I want you to know that."

"We will then. Hey, I really have to go, Evie. I'm already late." Steve looked into his rear view mirror, beginning to back up.

"Okay." Evie watched Steve drive away, smiling, as she found some hope they would be all right.

* * *

"Hey, Sodapop. Sorry I'm late. Got kind of stuck," Steve said, as he punched in at the DX.

"You're good, man," Soda said, from where he stood reorganizing the snacks on a shelf. "I still got a few minutes."

Steve adjusted the cap on his head. "I was just talking to Evie."

Soda's ears perked up. "Oh?" He put the last bag of chips where it belonged, then went back behind the counter.

"But that's not why I got stuck. It was only a minute. I mean, we've talked since...well, you know. I just haven't known much to say. Still don't, really. We had planned to go out tomorrow night."

"So are you?"

Steve shrugged, going to stand by the cash register, putting his hands on the counter. "I told her I guess so. She said she really wants to."

Soda punched out, glancing at the clock by the window behind the counter. "You should. But only if you want to." He grinned at Steve, as he opened the door. "I think I'm going to head on home. Darry's working a little late, so I'm walking today."

"Soda?"

Soda stood against the open door, looking at Steve. "Yeah?"

"If I come over later, can-" Steve looked down. "Never mind."

"If you want to talk later, we can. You don't have to ask." Soda glanced outside. "Some people are about to come in here, I think." He turned back to Steve. "But come over tonight if you want to. It doesn't matter why."

* * *

Nicholas was sitting in the living room, the day beginning to fade into night, as he held the Bible open on his lap. The lamp next to him shed its light on Psalm 91:

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, who abides in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, 'My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence; he will cover you with his pinions and under his wings, you will find refuge."

Nicholas saw Rose's notes in the margins, realizing the image the verses created:

He protects me from hunters, like a baby bird in the nest. He hides me with his wings.

"I wonder if she could find a way to answer any of Steve's questions," Nicholas murmured, just as he heard the front door open.

He quickly closed the Bible and stood to take it to his room. He dropped it onto the bed, near his pillow, before going into the kitchen.

Nicholas saw Steve taking off his shoes, his gaze locked on the tile floor. "Son?"

Steve looked up, both shoes off. "Huh?"

"You hungry? I made some soup earlier." Nicholas went over to the stove, where he'd left the pot.

"Thanks, but I think I'm just going to go lie down in a minute. I'm feeling kind of tired."

"Busy day?"

"Not really. No more than normal anyway. But I had a panic attack at school. Those make me tired."

"Oh, what happened?" Nicholas stirred the soup with a spoon.

"I don't know. Just came out of nowhere. I'm just glad the whole class wasn't there. Just this one guy, then my science teacher. I think it freaked him out a little."

"I'm sure."

"He stood there with me. I told the other guy to get lost, so he did."

Nicholas smiled. "I wouldn't expect any less."

"It's one thing for Soda or his brothers or even TwoBit to see me like that. But other people at school?" Steve got to his feet. "I don't want that."

"I understand, Son." Nicholas set the spoon down next to the pot of soup, turning to give Steve his full attention. "You haven't had a panic attack in a while."

"I know, but it's no big deal. Not worse than other things I've had lately. It's better than feeling like I'm reliving-" Steve sighed, pursing his lips and clenching his fists.

"It's okay. You don't have to finish. I got it." Nicholas patted Steve's shoulder.

"I'm going to go lie down for a while. I'll eat later." Steve turned and walked away, going to his bedroom.

Nicholas heard Steve's door close. Why do I keep feeling like I'm missing something? he wondered.

* * *

_Steve couldn't sleep. He closed his eyes, then opened them once more. Of course I can't sleep after talking about all that, he thought. He sat up, then got to his feet, staring out his bedroom window. He never thought he would tell anyone what the rest of that night was like._

_ When Steve had the flashback on the front porch, he'd felt cornered by those memories that no one knew much about yet. He was relieved his dad had been there, letting him lean on him, as the past pulled him back in time. Nicholas had done just what Steve needed by talking to him too._

_ Then, when he'd had another flashback in the Curtis' yard, Steve felt even more cornered by those same memories. He wasn't nearly as calm and had responded aloud to them that time. In spite of that, he knew he was safe with Soda, who was there to witness his trying to pull himself back to the present and there to talk to him, much like Nicholas had. If he had to relive the worst memories of Clara's abuse, at least Steve hadn't been alone either time. He'd had two of the people he trusted most there beside him._

_ Steve moved away from the window and padded down the hall. He noticed Nicholas' door was open a crack and peaked in at his dad. Knowing Nicholas and the determination he had to make sure he was there for his son now, Steve figured he had probably left the door open on purpose. He looked at his dad for a moment, remembering the first time he had told him about the memories. That night, as his dad held him, fiercely pleading with him to talk, Steve had felt like a little kid again. He finally did talk, revealing details of the abuse and his feelings, but leaving out the specifics about the night Clara was angry at him. _

_ Tonight had been similar, except Steve had gone to Nicholas this time, intending to tell him the rest. He had revealed to his dad the horrible details that, before this conversation, only lived on in his mind and the pages of the notebook Laura had given him._

_ Now that Steve was older, he could see that Clara only got worse with her abuse as time went on. It wasn't something he could grasp as a little boy, but he was certain now that Nicholas had saved him from the cruelest Clara would have done if given more chances._

_ Steve walked away from Nicholas' door and into the kitchen. He took out a glass and filled it with water from the sink. He took a long swallow and leaned against the counter. As overwhelmed as he still felt, he was relieved. He didn't have anything to hide about what he had suffered anymore. He wasn't alone in knowing what all had transpired when Clara lived under their roof._

_ These memories that made Steve feel so weak hadn't stopped him from talking to his dad, and even as he'd cried, there was strength in that moment. Because of Laura's encouragement to write things down if he couldn't talk about them yet and Soda's insistence that he should tell his dad what he'd been afraid to before, Steve felt strong enough to face the rest of the memories still causing him such turmoil._

_ Steve swallowed the rest of the water and put the glass in the sink. He walked down the hallway, stopping at Nicholas' bedroom door again. He looked at his sleeping father, who he knew didn't just hurt for him, but also with him. He could see and feel that, and as much as he loved his dad and hated the suffering they both endured, there was a comfort in the fact that he was never alone with the pain._

* * *

Nicholas was finishing another bowl of soup when he looked outside and saw Soda coming toward the house. He took one more bite, before hearing a knock, then he saw the door open.

"Hey," Soda said, sticking his head in, before coming all the way inside.

"Hi, Sodapop. Steve's asleep," Nicholas said, pushing his empty bowl away.

"It's kind of early still."

"Yeah. He said he was tired though."

Soda let his eyes drift to the hallway. "He kind of said something about coming over tonight, or started to anyway. I got the idea he wanted to talk. He said never mind but..."

"You're worried?" Nicholas stood and put the bowl in the sink.

"Yeah." Soda leaned on the counter next to the stove, both of his elbows on it. "I got to thinking about what you said earlier. I feel like I'm going behind his back saying anything though."

"You've come to me before when you were worried about Steve." Nicholas put the leftover soup into a container, then put it in the refrigerator.

"Yeah, but it seemed more-" Soda paused, biting his bottom lip. "I don't know. Necessary?"

"So you're not sure if it's necessary?" Nicholas sat down, still looking at Soda.

"I mean, he's not doing anything crazy, you know?"

"Let me ask you this then. If this were reversed, and you were in Steve's place, do you think he would tell Darry about it?"

* * *

Steve held a bowl of soup in his hands, taking a bite, as he peeked into the hallway. He'd fallen asleep hours ago, then woke up with his stomach growling. Nicholas was asleep, but Steve noticed his dad's door was open. He cracked a small smile, before walking back to the kitchen to finish eating.

Steve yawned, as he set the bowl on the table and dropped into a chair. He took a few more bites of soup, before pushing the bowl away. I guess I wasn't that hungry, he thought. Steve sighed and put one elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand. He thought about how much had happened in barely a week's time and realized he just wanted to go back to bed.

Steve got up, and as he passed his dad's room, he saw the open door again. For just a moment, he thought about going in, though he couldn't have explained exactly why at the time. Maybe it was his dad's presence and the comfort in that? Maybe he wanted to feel protected? Steve wasn't sure, but he decided to go back to his own room.

After he pulled the covers over himself, Steve closed his eyes against the emotions that made him feel trapped, resting in spite of the thoughts that hovered over his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

When Nicholas had told him to imagine the tables turned, Soda hadn't hesitated for one more moment. He told Nicholas what he was worried about, realizing it may indeed be necessary.

Soda opened the toolbox and pulled out the wrench and sockets he was going to need. He closed it, before going to see where he had left the ratchet. He found it over by the set of paperwork he had finished earlier, then went back to the Toyota Steve had tested the evening before, saying it had a bad alternator.

Soda had told Nicholas about the conversation he had with Steve on their spur of the moment drive and about how the way his best friend sounded reminded him of a time not long ago. The pain in Steve's voice, as well as his words, revealed the shame and guilt he was feeling that wasn't just about Evie at all. Soda didn't blame him for feeling bad or for expressing it. Steve needed that. What had his attention now though was the connection between those clearly overwhelming emotions and what Nicholas had pointed out about Steve's demeanor since that day.

Soda popped open the hood of the Toyota and searched for the area where the alternator should be located. Finding it easily, he checked the belt, before beginning to disconnect the cables. As he worked, Soda remembered how Steve was when he had just begun to really talk through the abuse he suffered, and the conversation in the car was reminiscent of that time. Of course, the fact that Steve's first reaction hadn't been to try to hide made a big difference. That meant a lot, and Soda was glad for it. Yet, it bothered him that Steve had expressed these feelings, then subsequently gone back to being too calm on the surface. He didn't want him trying not to feel those emotions or burying them underneath an exterior that made him seem numb to the pain he obviously felt.

Soda hadn't been able to answer Steve's questions about God any more than Nicholas had. He also felt that no answer could've been sufficient in those moments, knowing how his friend was struggling with hurt no one should have to experience. It made sense to wonder why, to question God's knowledge and reasoning. Yet, maybe there just were no answers.

Even so, as Soda continued working on the Toyota, a ratchet in his hand to unscrew the bolts, he found himself saying a prayer for his best friend. He prayed for Steve to have comfort and help and for himself to have the right words to say the next time his friend talked to him about anything. He hoped God heard him and that he was really listening. Even if he didn't always intervene and stop terrible things from happening, Soda figured God knew more than he could ever know.

* * *

Steve and Evie sat side by side on the hood of Steve's car, as the stars twinkled and the moon cast its glow from the night sky.

Evie looked over at Steve, a smile on her face. "What are you thinking about?"

Steve shrugged. "Nothing."

"I'm glad we came." Evie took Steve's hand in hers, squeezing it. "It's almost a full moon tonight."

"Yeah." Steve squeezed Evie's hand.

"I read once that you can't see as many stars during a full moon because it's so bright."

"Oh." Steve turned his eyes from the sky to Evie. "I'm sorry. I'm still having a real hard time. It's not that I don't want to be here with you. It's just... Things feel different, and I'm not sure what to do with that."

"Things? Do you mean us?"

"Yeah."

"I wish I knew what to do about it." Evie gave Steve's hand one more squeeze, before letting go. "I love you, sweetie. Please know that."

Steve rubbed his head. "Evie, I'm not feeling too good. I think we should go."

"But we haven't been here long. Are you getting sick?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Evie reached over and rubbed circles on Steve's back. "Okay. Let's go then."

Steve slid off the hood of the car, pulling his keys from his pocket, as he opened the door.

"Is there anything we still need to talk about?" Evie asked, as she slid in next to him.

Steve looked through the windshield at the nearly full moon. "I don't think so."

Evie spoke, as Steve turned the key, starting the car. "Just checking. I really want us to be okay. Even more than that, I want you to be okay."

Steve shifted the car into gear. "Me too."

* * *

Suzie was staring at the drive-in movie screen and had just taken a sip of her drink when she felt Soda's arm go around her. "I like going out with you," she said. "You're so sweet, Sodapop."

"I like going out with you too." Soda said, as he let his arm slide from her shoulders to her waist, and she leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

Soda kissed Suzie back, and she put her arms around his neck, as he used his other arm to draw her closer. Their lips stayed locked, as Soda moved one hand down to her hip. He slid his tongue into her mouth, as she closed her eyes, leaning more into the kiss.

Suzie moved her hand from Soda's neck up to his head, letting her fingers tangle in his hair. She kissed him a few more moments, before she pulled away, her head falling onto his chest.

Soda ran his fingers through Suzie's hair. "There's more where that came from," he murmured, sliding his hand up her shirt.

Suzie giggled, as she sat up. "I bet there is." She touched Soda's thigh, then brought it up to rest on the waist of his jeans. "But I want to finish the movie."

Soda grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "That's sure not what I came for."

"But it's all you're getting." Suzie winked at him. "For the moment anyway."

"All right, all right. We'll watch the movie. But if I didn't have to get Darry's truck back to him, we'd be getting a room for the night." Soda winked at Suzie, then put his arm around her waist.

Suzie smiled and turned to the movie screen. "Hey, you think Evie and Steve would like to go on another double date sometime?"

Soda stared at the screen. "Maybe. I'll ask him."

"We could all go out to dinner or something." Suzie put her head on Soda's shoulder.

"Sure. Sounds nice." Soda kept his arm around Suzie, trying to focus on the movie that was playing. He looked down at her, then tilted her chin up, so his lips were almost touching hers. "I need another kiss. Maybe even more."

* * *

Steve stopped his car in front of Evie's house, and she reached for the door handle, about to get out.

"Hang on," Steve said, about to get out himself. "I'll get that and walk you to the door."

"No. You go on home and get some rest." Evie said, as she leaned over and planted a kiss on Steve's cheek, lingering for a moment, cupping his other cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Steve nodded and kissed her cheek. "Okay. I love you, Evie. I really need to make sure you know that."

Evie smiled. "I do know. Bye, sweetie." She got out of the car, closing the door behind her.

Steve watched Evie go up the porch steps and into the house, before driving away.

* * *

"My son was abused by someone we both trusted," Nicholas said, sitting in a rocking chair on Samuel's front porch, as he drank the last of the coffee his friend had given him. "And a few nights ago, he asked me why God didn't stop her."

"What did you say?" Samuel asked, from his place in another rocking chair next to Nicholas.

Nicholas shook his head, placing the coffee mug on the small table near him. "I couldn't answer. I kind of tried, but he kept asking so many other questions too, and I didn't know what to say to that anyway. I finally told him I don't know."

"So you were honest. You don't know. I don't know either. What else did he ask?"

"Why God took his mom. Not just why didn't he stop the abuse when it was happening, but where was he when she came into our lives in the first place."

Samuel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Poor kid. Mine's a totally different situation, but I've asked the same kinds of questions. Even now, I don't have the answers to why I lost Matthew or why it had to happen like that. Maybe I don't want to know."

Nicholas nodded his head. "Yeah, and I don't think Steve really expected an answer. Besides, what explanation could be good enough? I knew even less what to tell him when he asked how he could trust God now."

"Those are all tough questions." Samuel leaned back in his chair, rocking it a little. "I may be a preacher, but I'd be just as speechless. Even when someone asks questions, I think sometimes they just want to get it off their chest. I know I've done that. Any answer probably would've made me more upset."

Nicholas tilted his head, glancing at the night sky, then looking at Samuel. "You know what though? Steve said all that, but he didn't sound like he was blaming God. He told me the next day that he blames her. He blames the person who abused him."

"As he should. God gave us freedom to make our own choices, and a person who chooses to hurt a child on purpose misuses that." Samuel leaned forward, his hands in his lap, as he met Nicholas' gaze. "You know what Jesus said about someone who hurts a child?"

Nicholas rocked the chair, thinking for a moment. "I don't believe I do."

* * *

Steve noticed his dad's car wasn't there and wondered where he could be, as he got out of his own car and went inside the house. Searching for a distraction, he turned on the T.V., then pulled a Coke from the refrigerator, popping it open. He sipped the drink, as he sat down on the couch, trying to focus on the T.V. screen.

Steve switched on the lamp, then set the can on the table beside him, before taking a deep breath and lying back against the couch cushions, that feeling of coldness returning and giving him chills. He shivered, realizing he didn't want to be by himself.

Steve sat up and covered his face, hating this feeling, but hating the fact that he was alone with it even more. I have no idea where Dad is, he thought. He's the one who told me it's good to tell someone if I don't want to be alone. Steve knew Soda had gone on a date tonight, but maybe he would be home now. He's the one who said always tell someone if I feel like this, Steve mused.

Steve pulled his car keys from his pocket, where he'd shoved them just minutes before. He couldn't stay home alone with his mind wandering the way it was.

* * *

Samuel kept his eyes locked with Nicholas', while he referenced Jesus' words."He said it'd be better for them to have a stone tied around their neck and be thrown into the depths of the sea."

Nicholas' eyes widened. "Wow. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I like the image that creates. She deserved exactly that."

"It's metaphorical, of course, but that gives you an idea of how much God hates kids being mistreated. Even if he didn't intervene and stop what happened to your son, I guarantee he hurts for him even more than you still do."

"I believe you, even though that's hard to imagine." Nicholas smiled. "Steve ended up surprising me that same night, and I think what he said to me might help me be able to forgive myself for not stopping it, for not knowing sooner what was happening."

"So his own pain doesn't stop him from helping you."

"Sure doesn't. I wonder if it makes him want to help more. I was praying and asking God why I didn't see it, why I trusted her, and why I let it happen. I didn't know Steve had even heard until he was there beside me."

Samuel raised his eyebrows, smiling at Nicholas. "That sounds familiar."

Nicholas chuckled. "I guess it should. Steve answered the questions too, and I think he's right. It's funny. I send my prayers to God, and he uses people to answer them."

* * *

"She seems like a nice girl, Soda. I'm glad you brought her by," Darry said, as he put the clean dishes away.

"Yeah. She's hot too. I think if-" Soda said, interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who knocks around here?" He went over and found Steve standing right outside the door, then opened it. "Stevie, why are you knocking?"

Steve turned around and dropped down onto the porch swing, before answering. "I don't know. I just did. I didn't know if you'd be home yet."

Soda grinned, as he stepped outside. "Yeah, I haven't been home long. I took Suzie to the drive-in, but we didn't watch too much of the movie, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah." Steve wrapped his arms around himself. "I got back from being with Evie, and my dad wasn't home. I can't be alone, Soda."

Soda sat down beside Steve. "Did something happen?"

"No. I just- I can't." Steve didn't look at Soda, as he felt his heart begin to beat faster. "You weren't wrong before."

"What does that mean? You said it the other day too. I wasn't wrong about what?"

Steve met Soda's gaze for a moment. "Never mind. I can't tell you."

"I've heard that before. It hasn't been true once."

Steve looked away, feeling Soda's eyes still on him. "I didn't come over here to tell you this."

Soda rested against the arm of the swing. "Whatever is going on, you can tell me, and I know you want to, or you wouldn't keep almost spilling it. Whatever I wasn't wrong about has something to do with why you don't want to be alone, doesn't it?"

Steve gripped the edge of the swing. "I do want to tell you." He dropped his head into his hands. "God, I can't keep doing this. I just want it to stop."

"You want what to stop? Come on, buddy. It's me."

Steve got to his feet, the swing moving as he stood. "I should've just waited for my dad to come home. Maybe he's home now. It's starting to get late."

Soda sat up, watching Steve. "If he is, are you going to tell him what's bothering you?"

Steve shook his head. "No." He took a step forward, before stopping, his back to Soda. "Sodapop?"

"I'm still right here."

"If I tell you" Steve swallowed. "please believe me that I don't want to think like this."

Soda got up, going to stand in front of Steve, who had let his eyes drift to the ground. "Steve, look at me." He waited for a moment, making sure his friend's eyes met his own. "What's going through your head?"

Steve went back to the swing, tense as he sat down on the edge of it. He stared at his feet, his eyes not blinking. "That day I called out of work cause I wanted to be alone, and you were worried because of all those things I said to you, so you and my dad thought I was going to kill myself, remember that?"

Soda nodded, easing himself down next to Steve and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I remember."

"I think I did mean the things I said that way, but I didn't know it. They just came out. I did feel like that. I did think about..." Steve blinked his eyes, still not looking up.

Soda kept his voice soft, even as an unsteadiness came over him. "You were thinking of killing yourself that day?" He let his hand drop from Steve's shoulder to his arm.

"No." Steve lifted his head and looked at Soda. "I don't mean that. I didn't lie to you guys. I just mean I'd had the thoughts. I didn't realize it until after you said something." He stopped, taking in a breath and slowly letting it out. "Please believe me, Soda. I didn't want to die. I still don't. That was never what I was going to do. I told you the truth."

"Okay." Soda squeezed Steve's arm, feeling the need to hold on to his friend. "I always believed you."

"I remember telling you that dying did cross my mind. It did, and it still does, but it's more than that. It's like these thoughts flash into my mind, and I can't control it."

"That's why you keep saying you can't be alone."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. It scares me because I get afraid I might... I don't want to do it. But I get afraid I'll do something anyway. Because the thoughts get so strong sometimes."

Soda blinked back tears, not wanting them to fall right now. "Why didn't you tell anyone before?"

"I didn't want anyone to think I was going to do it. You and my dad were so freaked out when you thought that's what I was going to do." Steve bowed his head, staring at his feet once more.

"What about Laura? That's what she's there for, right?"

"She asked once if I ever had thoughts about killing myself. But I couldn't do it when I was talking about so many other things for the first time. So I just told her no, that I'd never do anything like that." Steve eyes began to fill with tears. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Soda squeezed Steve's arm once more, as he closed his eyes, a silent prayer going up for the words to say.

"I almost did tell Laura this week, but it's like part of me was still afraid of what she might say. I really don't want to hurt myself." Steve leaned his head against the chain on the swing, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Soda released Steve's arm and leaned forward to see his friend's face. "Listen. I believe you. But you need to talk to her and to your dad too."

Steve didn't meet Soda's eyes, only stared straight head, his voice shaking. "I don't want to die. I just want the thoughts to stop. I don't want to feel like this."

"I really do believe you." Soda's voice trembled. "But you did just say you were afraid you'd do it anyway." He put his hand on Steve's back, gripping his shirt. "We both know it only takes a second to make a decision you can't take back."

Steve lifted his head and looked toward Soda. "Yeah. I guess we do."

"You don't have to fight anything alone. Please don't try. Promise me you'll talk to them. Tell them what you told me."

"I promise."

"Come here. You know I have to hug you." Soda pulled Steve close, his arms tight around him. "No matter what goes through your head, I'm still here, okay?"

Steve closed his eyes, more tears falling down his cheeks, as he returned the embrace. "Okay."

Soda didn't hold back his own tears this time. "I'm sorry you've been feeling like this. You're my best friend, and I love you, buddy. I don't want anything to happen. Please talk to your dad and to Laura. You know I'll do it myself if you don't."


	13. Chapter 13

Nicholas came home to find the TV and a lamp on and an open drink on the table. "I guess Steve's been here." He yawned, stretching, as he turned off the TV.

He went to his bedroom, finding a pair of shorts and t-shirt to wear to bed. After changing clothes, Nicholas wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He was still looking at what was inside it when the front door started to open, then closed again.

"What was that?" Nicholas glanced out the window. "Oh. It's Steve and Soda." He opened the door and stuck his head out. "Coming inside?"

"You didn't have to come, Soda," Steve said. "I promised, didn't I? And it's late. You should've stayed home."

"Not a chance, man. You should've known you'd be stuck with me for the night, especially since you didn't know if your dad was home," Soda said.

"What's going on?" Nicholas asked. "Everything okay?"

Soda looked at Nicholas, then at Steve. "Go in and talk to him, Stevie. I'll stay out here. I just want to make sure you do it."

Nicholas looked from Soda to Steve. "What's wrong? If you need to tell me something, we can talk."

* * *

"This is making me wish I'd never opened my mouth tonight," Steve said, his hands over his eyes, as he sat in the middle of his dad's bed.

"I'm guessing I'm going to be glad you did since Sodapop wouldn't have insisted on making sure you talk to me right now if it wasn't serious." Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed. "What's going on, Son?"

"Dad, I- I'm afraid because I have these thoughts, and they won't go away." Steve stared at the comforter on the bed, elbows resting on his crossed legs. "They've been there before, and they're back again."

"Thoughts? What have you been thinking about?"

"I don't mean to think them. They just happen."

"Okay. So what's in them?"

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm not going to do it."

Nicholas reached out and gripped Steve's shoulder. "Son, I couldn't be angry at you for anything you're thinking."

Steve turned his head to face the wall, still feeling his dad's hand on his shoulder. "They're thoughts about killing myself."

Nicholas took in a sharp breath, but didn't let go of Steve. "What happened tonight?"

Steve's gaze fell to his lap. "I didn't really feel like being out. I was with Evie, but it wasn't because of her. It was this, and I wanted to go home. So I took her home, and when I got here, you were gone."

Nicholas moved closer to Steve, sitting right beside him. "So what did you do?"

"I was here for a few minutes. I tried to distract myself, but I didn't want to be alone. So I went to Soda's."

"Were you afraid to be alone?"

"Yeah. I wasn't even going to tell Soda at first, but I think I really wanted to tell somebody. I'm sorry, Dad." Steve pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, willing the coming tears away.

Nicholas reached for Steve's hands and gently pulled them away from his face, covering them with both of his own. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I didn't tell anybody when I know I should have. Laura even asked once, and I didn't tell her."

Nicholas squeezed both of Steve's hands. "It's all right, Son."

"I don't want to die, but when I'm alone and those thoughts are there, I don't know how to make them stop." Steve lowered his head, letting it fall on their intertwined hands.

Nicholas saw Steve's shoulders begin to shake, as he started to sob. He released his son's hands and wrapped him in his arms, his own vision clouded with tears. "You're going to be okay. You've been through a lot, Stevie. You can get through this too."

"I don't want to do it. Please believe me. I don't want to hurt myself." Steve still cried, his head on Nicholas' chest. "But it makes me afraid I will. I'm sorry. I don't want to feel this way."

Nicholas held him tighter. "No, you don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault at all. I know you don't want to hurt like that." He placed a kiss on top of Steve's head. "I'm glad you told me. I love you so much, and I'm not angry. I can't even think of being mad at you, Son."

"It's real tough to talk about this. I just want it to stop." Steve pulled away, wiping his eyes.

"I know. Please tell me how I can help. You know I'll do anything you need."

Steve's eyes drifted to the ceiling, as he looked up, then met Nicholas' gaze. "Please pray for me, Dad."

* * *

"Please tell me he talked to you," Soda said from his spot on the couch, when he saw Nicholas opening a hall closet.

"He's asleep now, but he did." Nicholas pulled a pillow and blanket down and tossed them to Soda. "Crash on the couch."

"Thanks." Soda set the pillow and blanket down. "It got late, but I had to make sure, you know?"

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. You're a damn good friend."

"Steve would do the same for me."

"That's true."

"There was no way he could tell me that and I'd just go on about my damn night, like it was nothing." Soda unfolded the blanket, spreading it out. "I mean, I know I can't make anything better, but that's not going to fuckin' stop me from being there."

"Sodapop?"

Soda pushed the pillow against the arm of the couch, keeping his hand on it. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"It's so hard to know-" Soda clenched the pillow case in his fist. "I mean, so hard to think about..."

"I know."

"I'm not mad at him. Please don't think that." Tears swam in Soda's eyes. "I just hate that he hurts that bad. It scares me to death."

Nicholas sat down on the edge of the coffee table, in front of Soda. "Me too. Believe me, tonight when he first said he had thoughts about killing himself, then was home alone, I thought it was even worse."

Soda clenched his eyes shut. "Don't tell him anything that I just said."

Nicholas reached over and squeezed Soda's shoulder. "I won't."

"Steve was begging me to believe he doesn't want to think like that. He kept saying he doesn't want to die and to please believe him. I fuckin' know that!" Soda's hands shook, as he wiped the tears from his face. "Of course I believe him!"

"He said those same things to me. It's okay, Soda."

"Sorry. I know this ain't easy for you either."

"Don't apologize. It's not, but that's exactly why I know where you're coming from. Steve kept saying he was sorry, like I could be mad at him." Nicholas let go of Soda's shoulder. "For what? For hurting? I couldn't be if I tried."

"Did he tell you when this started?"

"No, and I didn't ask. He was falling apart."

"That was what he started with telling me. He kept saying I wasn't wrong before. I didn't know what the hell that meant." Soda rested his chin in his hand, leaning on the arm of the couch. He looked at the floor, then at Nicholas. "No wonder he didn't want to be alone. I wouldn't either."

"So what did that mean? About you not being wrong."

"It's about that day I was worried he might be about to kill himself, and you and me were both looking everywhere for him. Even though he told us the truth and wasn't going to do it, Steve said he had those thoughts then too."

Nicholas bowed his head, closing his eyes. "Jesus."

"But he said he didn't know, not until after I told him what I thought. I guess that was another thing in his head he couldn't face yet."

"I wish I really knew what to do."

"That's why he's got to talk to Laura. I'm sure she'll know something. I keep thinking of that day Steve was drinking early in the morning and broke up with Evie, then blew up at me. I don't remember if I told you then what he said about dying?"

"No, I don't believe you did. Seems like I'd remember."

"I asked him if he was sure he didn't want to die because of how he was acting and how he seemed to ready to give up on everything. He told me yeah, he was sure, but it had crossed his mind." Soda sighed, resting against the back of the couch.

"So he kind of almost told you then."

"When he said that, it worried me, but so did that whole day. I makes me wish I had asked what he meant."

"I don't think he would've gone any further into it. Not then. There was too much he hadn't dealt with yet." Nicholas patted Soda's knee, before standing to his feet. "You get some sleep."

* * *

Nicholas let his head hit the pillow, the tears he had fought since he held Steve in his arms slipping down his cheeks. He prayed in a choked whisper. "God, thank you for protecting my son tonight." He swallowed hard. "This could be worse. Please don't let me have to think about losing him. No matter what he thinks or feels, please don't let him hurt himself. Please."

Nicholas closed his eyes, just letting himself cry. He'd shed so many tears for Steve's pain and for his own. He had suspected Steve was keeping something to himself in an effort to maintain a front of stability in the face of emotions time could not heal, but nothing could have prepared him to listen to his son sob, saying he doesn't want to die. Nothing could've made Nicholas ready to hear Steve's pleas of apology and his agonizing fear that he would hurt himself in response to the relentless thoughts that were so troubling his mind.

Nicholas spotted the Bible on the nightstand next to his bed. Turning over, he reached for it and flipped it open, sitting up. He didn't know where to look, but Steve's voice asking him to pray for him echoed in his mind. His son had been sincere this time, truly seeking any kind of comfort or guidance, even from a God he was hesitant to trust.

Nicholas found himself in 1 Kings, reading chapter nineteen about the prophet, Elijah. None of Rose's notes were on these verses, but he found he understood easily what was happening. He didn't need an explanation to make clear Elijah's despair, having heard a sadness so similar tonight.

"But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree; and he asked that he might die, saying 'It is enough now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers."

Nicholas pulled the green ribbon bookmark from where it lay and placed it where he was reading to hold the place. He wanted to remember Elijah, who he knew little about, but now would think of as the prophet who had felt much like Steve did right now.

"And he lay down and slept under a broom tree, and behold, an angel touched him, and said to him, 'Arise and eat." And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. And he ate and drank and lay down again. And the angel of the Lord came again a second time, and touched him, and said, 'Arise and eat, else the journey will be too great for you.' And he arose, and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the Mount of God."

God took care of him, Nicholas thought. When Elijah was so discouraged and felt he'd been through enough in life, he prayed to die, God sent him, rest, food, and an angel. He didn't tell him he shouldn't feel that way or turn his back on him. He listened and sent Elijah help.

Nicholas prayed again. "God, please do the same for my son. Take care of him, just like you did Elijah."

* * *

Steve's eyes popped open, wide as he took in his surroundings. He pulled his pillow over his ears, as he turned over, trying to fall back asleep, despite the spinning thoughts and memories.

Hearing a crash, Steve jumped, as he felt his heart pounding. He looked toward his bedroom door, putting a hand to his chest, as his stomach was overcome with nausea.

Steve bolted from his bed and into the hallway, stumbling into the bathroom just in time to expel the contents of his stomach. As he heaved, he felt a hand on his back and flinched away, shaking.

"Easy, buddy. It's just me," Soda said, as he pulled his hand back, but kneeled down next to Steve. "You came from nowhere so fast, I had to check on you."

Steve held his stomach and continued to heave, his head still spinning. He felt Soda's hand on his back again for a moment, then heard a drawer open and water running. A cool cloth touched his neck, as Soda kneeled beside him once more.

Steve's stomach relaxed, but he kept his head on the toilet seat, his eyes closed.

"You going to be all right now?" Soda asked.

"I thought you went home. You weren't supposed to see that."

"I told you you were stuck with me for the night." Soda reached over and flushed the toilet, before sitting against the bath tub. "Yeah, not one of your finer moments, but it's okay."

Steve lifted his head up and grabbed the wash cloth from his neck, running it over his face. He held it there, soaking in the coolness, as he moved to sit against the wall. "I woke up and was trying to go back to sleep."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd been dreaming about...you know, like I have before. I don't know if it was just in my head or what, but I heard something. It's the middle of the night, and I was in bed so..." Steve sighed. "You get it."

Soda looked down, covering his face. "Yeah. Damn."

Steve let the wash cloth fall into his lap. "What?"

"It was me you heard. I dropped a bowl, one of those metal ones. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, buddy."

"It just slipped."

"Well, at least I know I wasn't just hearing things now." Steve grinned. "What were you getting into this time of night anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I got hungry." Soda got to his feet. "Speaking of, I need to go clean up whatever was in that bowl." He walked away, his head still down.

Steve stood up and put the wash cloth in the sink, rubbing his eyes. "Man, what a rough night." He left the bathroom, going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and saw Soda in front of the refrigerator sweeping up the last of the leftover chicken and rice that had been in the bowl he dropped. Steve got a glass and filled it with water, sipping it slowly.

Soda finished cleaning, putting the metal bowl in the sink and the broom next to the trash can before disappearing to the front porch.

Steve noticed the look still on Soda's face. "Damn it." He set the water down and followed his friend.

Soda had just lit a cigarette when he saw Steve next to him. "I'm sorry."

"I already told you it's okay. I guess I just don't do too great with things going bump in the night, and I had already been dreaming."

Soda took a long drag off his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke.

Steve patted Soda's back. "It was just an accident, man."

Soda inhaled one more time, before he put the cigarette out and tossed it away, then turned to go back inside. He felt Steve touch his shoulder, then managed a small grin. "I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me."

Steve nodded, then followed Soda back into the house. He picked up the glass of water and filled it back up, as his friend tossed himself onto the couch. Soda turned over to face away from Steve and covered his head with the blanket.

Steve took a few more sips of water before deciding to head back to bed. "Night, man."

Soda didn't turn over to look at Steve. "Night."

"You can relax. I'm okay."

"I know."

Steve watched Soda for a moment before going back to his bedroom, where he fell into a deep sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

"Son, I'm only working for half a day, but I have to tell you something first," Nicholas said, standing in front of Steve in the kitchen.

Steve poured cereal into a bowl, then took a bite. "Okay."

Nicholas looked right into Steve's eyes. "If you need me, please call."

"I know, Dad."

"If you're alone, and you even think you-"

"Dad. I know." Steve took another bite of cereal and swallowed, before he spoke again, his voice growing softer. "I came to you, didn't I?"

Nicholas patted his son's shoulder. "You did. I just have to tell you. You know I need to make sure." He paused, glancing at Steve's breakfast. "Hey, are we out of milk or something?"

"No. I got sick last night, and I can't stand the thought of milk right now."

"You going to be okay to work today?"

"Yeah, it was just dreams, you know, and then-" Steve looked at Soda, who was still on the couch, but beginning to stretch, slowly waking up. "I'll tell you later."

"Okay." Nicholas grabbed his car keys. "I was serious. Call."

Steve nodded. "Got it."

"Bye, Son." Nicholas waved to Steve, as he went to his car.

Steve finished eating his cereal, then saw Soda was awake. "Man, you looked like something knocked you out."

Soda yawned. "I felt like it. Hey, what are you doing today?"

"Going to work in a couple hours. Then, after I get off, I don't know."

"Coleman gave me today off." Soda stood up and folded the blanket he'd been using, tossing it onto the back of the couch. "Oh, there's something I was supposed to ask you. Suzie wanted to know if you and Evie would want to go on another double date sometime."

Steve shrugged. "Sure. How about tonight? I bet Evie would like to go out again since I took her home pretty early last night."

* * *

Steve let the hot water from the shower run over his body, soap bubbles washing down the drain. He turned, the water falling over his face, as he closed his eyes.

Steve felt both a measure of relief and alarm when he thought of the conversations he'd had the night before. His suicidal thoughts weren't just his own burden to bear and hide now. They weren't a secret demon that got to sneak up on him and remain in the dark. Yet, the light shed on this inner fight with himself didn't make those thoughts disappear. Steve was still afraid, but he felt like there was a safety net underneath him. However, the last thing he'd wanted was to scare his dad or Sodapop, and he didn't want them to think he had any intention of harming himself.

Steve was going to tell Laura the next time he saw her, knowing he should. He also realized she would have both his dad and his best friend knocking on her door if he didn't. There was no way either of them would let him continue to keep this from the person who would know best how to help. Steve hadn't meant to be dishonest with Laura when she asked if he had any suicidal thoughts. He had been trying to confront the abuse memories and emotions too, and he had just believed those thoughts would go away, that he could control it. He hadn't counted on it getting worse. Even knowing Laura was a counselor and had heard it before, Steve feared her response. What would she say? Would she think he should be locked up somewhere? Would she think there was even more wrong with him?

Steve turned off the shower and stepped out, pulling a towel from the rack. He dried his hair and face, before securing the towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom to get dressed. He found his DX uniform still laying on the bed where he'd left it.

As Steve got dressed, he remembered when he'd awakened last night. He wasn't sure if he could have gotten back to sleep right away, even if Soda hadn't made a single sound. Nothing like that had happened prior to this, but it was obvious to Steve how a noise in the night would bother him. Clara had abused him at night, and at those times, the only sounds he ever heard were her slipping into his bedroom and her voice that he wished he could forget. It was no wonder, between the images in his mind and the sound, that he had gotten sick. Steve hated how bad Soda felt about that. Even if his friend hadn't said it directly, the way he kept looking down and apologizing, while also growing so quiet, told him enough.

Steve finished buttoning up his shirt, then grabbed his comb from the dresser. He combed his hair, then looked around for his DX cap. He wandered out of his bedroom, still thinking of the night before and wishing he could expel the suicidal thoughts as easily as he had the contents of his stomach. If he could, he would flush them away, along with every memory of the abuse he had suffered. They would all go where they could never affect him again.

Steve was not just sincere when he asked Nicholas to pray for him, he was serious in a way that could only be brought on by the fear that he would act on an impulse in response to the thoughts that taunted him. He meant it when he said he didn't want to die, but the combination of memories and dark contemplations was making it hard to live.

* * *

Soda set the phone receiver down, having just talked to Suzie. She had said yes to going out again tonight. If Evie did want to go, then they would double with her and Steve. If not, he sure wouldn't mind some alone time with Suzie.

Soda pulled the pile of clothes from the dryer, tossing his own in a basket to take to his bedroom.

"Hey, Soda, you seen my blue shirt?" Pony asked, when he saw Soda going by with the basket of laundry.

Soda shook his head, still walking. "No."

"I'll go look through the rest of the laundry." Pony said, before going in the other direction.

Soda dumped the clothes on his bed. He heard the front door open, then slam shut, followed by Darry's voice. "Sodapop?"

Soda sighed and pulled one of his t-shirts form the pile. "Yeah?" he called back, as he started to fold it.

"Have you seen my screwdriver anywhere?"

"No."

Pony appeared next to Soda's bedroom door. "Hey, Soda, could you-"

"I doubt it, Pony," Soda said, as he tossed the shirt to the floor and ran a hand over his face.

Darry walked up behind Pony. "Hey, Soda, are you-"

"Can you guys please leave me alone?" Soda said, as he got to this feet and pushed past his brothers, going out to the back porch, where he dropped down onto the steps.

The door creaked open, then Soda heard Darry's voice. "Little buddy?"

"It's nothing, Dar. Sorry."

"I was just going to ask you if you were going out tonight. That's all."

Soda didn't turn around. "Yeah. Supposed to be."

Darry stepped outside, letting the door close. "Are you okay?"

"I said it's nothing, didn't I?"

"Doesn't sound like nothing. You're not usually so short with us."

Soda shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Let me know when you do."

* * *

"Evie, you should taste this," Suzie said, sliding her bowl of banana strawberry ice cream across the table.

"Sure," Evie said, as she used her spoon to take a bite. "This is really good. Here. Try mine." She slid her bowl of marshmallow mint in front of Suzie, who took a bite.

"You two make us look so boring," Steve said, from his place next to Evie, as he looked at his and Soda's own bowls of chocolate and vanilla ice cream.

Soda grinned and put an arm around Suzie. "Except I had to cover mine in chocolate syrup too."

"You drowned yours in chocolate syrup, man," Steve added.

"I ain't denying it," Soda said, as he looked around the small ice cream parlor. "Sure not many people here."

"I didn't even know this place was here," Evie said, as she finished her ice cream. "Hey, let's put some music on the jukebox over there and dance."

Soda reached in his pocket. "I got it." He found some change, then took Suzie's hand, and pulled her up out of the booth with him, going toward the jukebox.

Evie took Steve's hand. "Dancing sounds nice."

Steve grinned. "Sure does."

Music began to fill the room, and Steve saw Soda start to dance with Suzie. He got up out of the booth, Evie's hand still in his.

_"As I walk this land with broken dreams, I have visions of many things."_

Steve had each of his hands on Evie's waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, as they swayed with the music.

_"But happiness is just an illusion filled with sadness and confusion."_

"This is kind of a sad song," Evie said, laying her head on Steve's shoulder.

"Aw, I bet Soda picked it cause it's slow," Steve said, seeing his best friend and Suzie getting very close, as they danced.

_"The roots of love grow all around, but for me, they come a tumblin' down."_

Evie moved her head from Steve's shoulder to his chest, as they still moved with the music.

_"I walk in shadows searching for light. Cold and alone, no comfort in sight."_

Steve brought his hand up to hold the back of Evie's head, as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_"What becomes of the brokenhearted? Who had love that's now departed?"_

Evie closed her eyes, listening to Steve's heart beat for a moment, before lifting her head to see his face. "It's good to be here."

_"I'm searching, though I don't succeed. But someone look, there's a growing need."_

Evie laid her head on Steve's chest once more, as they moved side to side, just holding each other, the music filling the atmosphere.

_"Now, becomes of the brokenhearted, who had love that's now departed. I know I've got to find some kind of peace of mind."_

As the last of the song played, Steve noticed Soda and Suzie out of the corner of his eye. "I think they might be stuck together."

Evie giggled, lifting her head up. "Let's go sit back down." She took Steve's hand in her own.

Steve followed Evie, sitting down across from her in the booth, but not letting go of her hand.

* * *

"You're going to have to let her go sometime, buddy," Steve said, from the driver's seat, seeing Soda still lip-locked with Suzie in the back. "We're at her house."

Suzie smiled at Soda, as she pulled away, and he whispered something in her ear. She nodded. "Okay. I have to go. I'll see you later." She slid out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

"Damn, I could've walked her to the door," Soda said, watching Suzie go inside.

"Yeah, right. You'd have never come back," Steve said.

"Her parents are home though," Soda pointed out.

Steve glanced back at Soda. "Exactly why you needed to stay in the car." He started to pull away from the house.

"Seriously, Soda," Evie said, from the passenger seat. "You seem to really like her."

"I guess I do," Soda said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

Soda grinned. "Okay. Okay. So I do."

Evie turned to look at Soda. "Since when are you shy about anything?"

"Yeah, you weren't looking too shy when that slow song was playing," Steve said, as he braked at a red light. He felt himself begin to tense up, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"You guys make a cute couple," Evie said to Soda. She touched Steve's arm, then looked at him. "Are you okay?"

Steve nodded, as the light turned green. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Evie didn't move her eyes away from Steve. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Steve replied. "I just need to go home. I'm getting kind of tired."

* * *

Steve opened the passenger door for Evie and walked with her to the front of her house.

Evie felt a breeze blow through her hair, as they stood beneath the night sky. "I had a good time."

"Yeah. Me too."

Evie leaned forward, about to kiss Steve on the lips, but he moved before she could, kissing her cheek instead.

Evie touched Steve's face. "You don't want me to kiss you because I kissed that other guy?"

Steve shook his head, looking toward the yard in front of them. "No, it's not that. I didn't mean- I don't know."

"If it is because of that, I don't blame you." Evie let her hand drop onto Steve's arm.

Steve turned his eyes toward the sky. "Maybe it is that too. I'm not sure."

Evie rubbed his arm. "You feel kind of tense."

Steve sighed. "I guess I am. But I swear I'm trying not to be."

Evie sat down on the porch steps, pulling Steve down next to her. "Is it me?"

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "Is what you?"

"I mean, are you afraid that I'm going to touch you, and you'll have another flashback?"

"Yeah. I guess I am. I don't want to be though. But I've been feeling all kinds of things I don't want to lately." Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

"I hope you're not keeping anything that's hurting you inside again. It's okay to be afraid, you know." Evie closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a breath. "I have been too. I don't want to go through anything we just did ever again. You've said over and over that it's not me, but it is me."

"What?" Steve turned his head to look at Evie, his voice insistent. "No, it's not. It's-"

"I know. But listen. I say that because I know I'm the only person in your life who can touch you and make you think of-" Evie stopped, swallowing, as she felt tears in her eyes.

Steve reached for Evie's hand, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm the only one whose touch can make you think of not only the worst thing that's ever happened to you, but also of her, of that monster."

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"In only trying to show you I love you, I'm a reminder of the worst thing a child could go through and the sickest evil in the world. That really hurts."

Steve looked down at his lap. "It hurts me too."

"So it's okay to be afraid. I'm afraid of being the link in your life that connects you to her. I don't want to be that. It makes me sick inside to know what we do can make you think of the abuse you went through."

Steve blinked back the tears in his eyes, hating that Evie spoke the truth. "I wish nothing could make me think of it. Lately, I don't want to think at all."

* * *

"Hey, Pone?" Soda knocked on his little brother's door, looking in at him.

Pony put down the pencil he was using to draw. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

Pony shot Soda a smile. "It's okay. Since you're not usually like that, you're forgiven."

Soda grinned back at Pony, before walking away, noticing Darry's door was open. "Dar?"

"Hey, you have a good time tonight?" Darry asked, pulling on a white t-shirt.

"Yeah. I just wish it could've lasted longer."

* * *

Steve found Nicholas tucked into his bed, the covers wrapped around him. "Dad?"

Nicholas didn't open his eyes when he spoke. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. You're trying to sleep." Steve started to turn to go. "Never mind."

Nicholas opened his eyes to look at his son, his voice soft. "What do you need?"

Steve stayed close, but didn't turn back around to face Nicholas. "I don't know. I just tried to go to sleep, and I can't."

Nicholas sat up, patting the spot next to him. "Come here, Son."

Steve didn't look at Nicholas, as he settled next to him. "I dreamed a lot last night."

"Okay."

"I woke up once because of it. I was trying to calm down and go back to sleep. I usually have been. I'm not sure I could have anyway this time."

"I'm still listening."

"Then, there was this noise, and it was like I thought- I mean, I know it's not Clara, but all of that was already in my head. So it made me kind of panic. That's when I got sick."

"Are you trying to tell me you're afraid you'll dream again or hear something again?"

"I know it's crazy because I'm used to the dreams, and all I heard was Soda. He dropped a bowl on the floor in the kitchen. That's all it was."

Nicholas rested a hand on Steve's arm, squeezing it. "It's not crazy, Steve."

Steve looked up at Nicholas. "I threw up everything in my stomach because I got that scared. I think I slept so hard after because I was worn out from being sick."

"It'll do that to you."

"I get why that happened. I really do, but it makes it hard to sleep tonight. I don't want to dream, and I have a feeling I will."

* * *

Soda closed his bedroom door as quietly as he could, before tiptoeing down the hall. He saw both of his brothers' doors were closed, as he slipped past them. He walked toward the front door and opened it carefully He didn't make a sound, as he crept outside. He pulled the door closed, hearing the soft click, before heading through the yard and down the sidewalk.

A/N: "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?" belongs to Jimmy Ruffin :)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: This chapter ended up being extra long because there was just no good place to break it up without interrupting the flow of events, so enjoy! :)

Nicholas jolted awake when he heard the sound of crying. His eyes drifted to Steve, who had fallen asleep next to him. His son was curled up and had pressed himself against the wall. He whimpered, as he hid his face in his arms.

Nicholas turned on the lamp on his nightstand, then scooted closer, laying a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve? You're okay, Son."

Steve raised his head up, his eyes wide, then lifted his hands, pushing Nicholas away from him. "Don't touch me." He curled up once more, trembling and pushing himself even harder against the wall.

Nicholas fought to keep his voice calm and steady. "Come on, Son, it's just me. Nothing is happening right now. It's all memories. It's over. You went to sleep next to me. You're safe."

Steve was growing quieter, his trembling beginning to cease, as his body slowly relaxed.

"It's okay. Look at me, Son. Look around." Nicholas drew a little closer. "You're in my room. No one is going to hurt you. Please hear me."

Steve turned his head slowly. His still teary eyes looked at Nicholas. He blinked, before looking around the room.

Nicholas rested a hand on Steve's back. "You're okay. I promise."

Steve's gaze met his dad's, his voice quiet. "That was bad."

* * *

Suzie giggled, as Soda grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"The park just down the street," Soda said. "It's a good place to be alone."

They walked a little farther, a set of swings and a slide coming into view.

"Over here," Soda said, going toward the area behind a gazebo. He pulled Suzie down with him, both of them landing on the grass, their hands still intertwined.

Soda closed his eyes and placed his lips on Suzie's. She let go of his hand and held his face, deepening the kiss.

Soda gently pushed Suzie down onto the grass and straddled her, before stroking her cheek. "You're beautiful," he said, kissing her again.

Suzie ran her hands underneath Soda's t-shirt, touching his chest, before letting her fingers trail along his waist. "Are we really going to do this out here?" she asked, smiling, as she felt Soda's mouth on her neck.

Soda paused for a moment, his lips next to Suzie's ear and his hand on her bare hip, as he spoke in a whisper. "Looks like it, babe."

* * *

Nicholas kept his hand on Steve's back and scooted closer again. "It's over now."

"I know," Steve whispered, hiding his face in his arms for one more moment. He looked up at Nicholas. "I had a nightmare, and I kind of woke up from it, but not all the way."

"I'm glad you were in here."

"I remember sitting up and moving around. I was trying to get out of that nightmare, but it's like it kept going anyway, even when I opened my eyes."

Nicholas wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Sounds more like you had a flashback."

"Or both. It's never happened like that before, Dad. I was half asleep, so I couldn't even-" Steve let his legs drop onto the bed, as he narrowed his eyes. "Dad, did I push you away from me?"

"You did, but it's okay. Don't worry about that."

Steve's shoulders slumped, as he sighed. "I'm sorry. I hate that. I could hear you, but I just couldn't make sense of anything."

Nicholas squeezed Steve's shoulder. "I know. It's fine."

"It's no wonder that I-" Steve shook his head. "I mean, I just want to go back to sleep." He lie down, his back to Nicholas.

Nicholas reached over and turned off the lamp, before lying back down himself. He pulled the covers up, tucking them around Steve, as he said a silent prayer that his son would be able to feel safe, no matter what memories or thoughts intruded on his slumber.

* * *

"Care to tell me where the hell you've been?" Darry asked, eyeing Soda, as he stepped into the house.

"I'm almost eighteen, Dar," Soda said, his feet unable to keep moving.

"And it's almost 2:00 in the morning." Darry crossed his arms over his chest, drawing closer to Soda, his eyes never leaving his face. "Remember what happened the last time I had a brother out running around in the middle of the night?"

"I was just out with Suzie."

"No. You were 'just out' with Suzie earlier tonight. You're aren't just out when you're sneaking around. Sodapop, what has gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see her. Can I please go to bed?" Soda took one step forward, before he felt Darry's hand grip his arm. "What?"

Darry's eyes widened, as his voice got louder. "You know damn well what! We're not done talking about this. You have no business being out in the middle of the night. Do you know how worried I would've been if I'd known you were gone this late?"

"That's why I didn't tell you I left."

Darry tightened his grip on Soda's arm. "Sodapop Patrick." He clenched his jaw, letting go of his brother. "You know what? I'm tired. You go to bed. We'll finish this tomorrow."

* * *

Steve saw the beginnings of early morning light begin to stream through his dad's bedroom window. He shivered, then wrapped the covers tighter around himself, hoping to find some kind of relief in the physical comfort. Yet, there was no respite to be found, no hiding from the thoughts he didn't want to have, but couldn't control.

Steve let his gaze rest on Nicholas, who was sound asleep. He remembered the way his dad talked about his prayers, as well as the one he had overheard. Steve didn't know if he wanted to talk to God or even if he could. He decided he would let his dad keep doing that for him. If Nicholas believed his prayers mattered, maybe God would listen. Steve didn't know how to trust God, but he knew he could always trust his dad.

* * *

"When I didn't see you in your room, I thought you'd left again," Darry said, when he saw Soda on the porch swing.

Soda exhaled smoke, holding his cigarette between two fingers. "No. Still here."

Darry sat down next to his brother. "So you going to tell me what the hell you were thinking leaving this house so late at night?"

Soda shrugged, taking another drag off his cigarette. "I told you. I wanted to see Suzie. So I did."

"I hope you got a good look cause that's your last date for a while."

"Damn it, Darry! I'm almost eighteen!" Soda stood and paced away from the swing, as he put out the cigarette and tossed it away.

"Which is why you should know better, Sodapop!" Darry stood up, going to stand in front of his brother. "I know you do know better. That's why I'm trying to get you to explain."

"There's nothing to explain." Soda turned away from Darry, resting his elbows on the porch railing. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Darry sighed. "I wish you'd tell me what's been bothering you. I'm going to go in and fix something to eat."

Soda turned around and reached for Darry, before he could walk away. He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed.

Darry hugged Soda back. "What's going on, little buddy?"

Soda didn't answer the question, only buried his face in Darry's shoulder, holding onto his big brother.

* * *

"Just go, Dad. I'll be okay," Steve said, as he dried his face with a towel, then put his razor back in the drawer.

"Are you sure? I don't have to go. I went last Sunday," Nicholas said, as Steve turned off the bathroom light. "Would you tell me if you weren't sure?"

"Yes, I would." Steve walked to his room, Nicholas still right behind him. "Please go."

Nicholas stood in the doorway. "I'm just worried about you, Son."

Steve opened a dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of socks. "I know. But, Dad, you're doing everything you can, and I know that."

Nicholas sighed. "Okay. I'll go. And I'm glad you know that because I always feel like I want to do more."

Steve sat on the bed and started putting on his socks. "I think I'm going to go hang out with Soda anyway. You're doing a lot. You couldn't do more for me if you tried."

* * *

Nicholas still sat in a pew in the back of the church, most of the morning's congregation either gone or in the parking lot. Samuel's brother-in-law, Pastor David, had preached that morning, and Nicholas hadn't moved from his spot since the service ended, simply nodding at people who spoke to him.

"Nicholas?"

Nicholas turned his head and saw Samuel, then he stood up, holding the Bible under his arm. He offered his hand to the woman standing next to his friend, realizing she must be his wife. "Hi, I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Nicholas."

"I'm Vivian," the woman said, as she shook Nicholas' offered hand. "I remember seeing you last week, and Samuel has told me about you."

Nicholas grinned, releasing Vivian's hand. "Good to meet you."

"Well, I'll let you two talk," Vivian said, as she smiled at Samuel, then turned, going toward the front of the church.

"The sermon stun you so much, you couldn't move?" Samuel asked, his eyebrow raised.

"I was trying to listen," Nicholas said. "But I'm not focusing really well today. I caught some of it, but my head has been somewhere else."

"That's all right. It happens. Just glad it wasn't when I was preaching!" Samuel grinned at his friend.

Nicholas glanced down at the Bible he held under his arm. "Please pray for my son."

Samuel nodded. "Okay. Consider it done."

"Actually, not right now, but soon, I have something I want to ask you that I haven't been able to understand. I caught parts of what Pastor David said today about God's forgiveness. I get that, but I think I'm missing something here."

* * *

"Can I have some of that, Darry?" Steve asked.

Darry paused, coffee mug in hand. "Some of what?"

Steve nodded toward the mug. "Coffee."

"Sure. Help yourself." Darry walked outside, seeing Pony out in the front yard.

"Since when do you drink coffee, man?" Soda asked.

Steve opened a cabinet, pulling out a mug. "Since I'm tired from the last couple of nights. I thought maybe it would help."

"Oh. What happened last night?"

Steve poured the coffee from the pot into the mug, filling it up. "I would say the usual, but it really wasn't." He took a sip, before making a face. "Man! How do people drink this black?"

Soda nodded toward a glass container on the counter. "There's some sugar. You could try milk too."

Steve added a spoonful of sugar and took another sip. "That's a little better. Anyway, I had a flashback in the middle of the night. I was barely awake."

"Stevie, I'm not trying to point out the obvious, but it seems like that kind of stuff is happening an awful lot again."

"I know." Steve took a few more sips of the coffee. "I don't know if I like hot drinks."

"So put ice in it."

"Cold coffee? That sounds kind of weird."

Soda looked down at the tile floor, biting his bottom lip. "Hey, you're going to talk to Laura tomorrow, right?"

Steve set the mug down on the counter. "Yeah, I am. Not looking forward to it though."

"I don't think she'll be upset you didn't tell her before. I haven't met her, but I don't imagine you could talk about everything you do with her if she wasn't real nice."

"She is. I don't think she will either. It's just hard, you know?"

Soda nodded, finding himself looking out the window, meeting Darry's gaze. "Yeah. I do."

* * *

"Smile, Sodapop!" Mr. Coleman said, as he went into the garage. "People ain't going to want to come back to see that look on your face.

Soda closed the cash register, the bell above the door dinging as his last customer headed outside. "If they're coming here to see my smile, we got bigger problems," he mumbled.

Mr. Coleman came back inside the store. "Sodapop, go on and change the tire on that car out front. Then, when you're done, I have a box of items that need to be stocked in the back."

Soda nodded, coming from behind the counter. "On it, sir."

"Don't forget to smile. Show some enthusiasm."

Soda gave his boss a half-smile, opening the door. "Sure thing."

"Hang on."

"Sir?"

"I never have to tell you that. Something on your mind?"

Soda shook his head. "No. I'm fine. Just kind of tired is all."

* * *

"Should I bother telling you you didn't have to come?" Steve asked his dad, who was sitting in the chair next to his in the waiting room of Laura's office.

"No, you shouldn't bother," Nicholas said, patting Steve's leg. "Come on, you knew I would."

"But you still didn't have to." Steve picked up a magazine, flipping through the pages.

"Maybe not, but I wanted to."

"Dad?" Steve gripped the magazine, his eyes on it, even as he didn't comprehend the words on the page.

"What, Son?"

"I'm glad you came."

* * *

"Soda, could you do me a favor?" Darry asked, after looking in the refrigerator.

"Sure, Dar," Soda said.

"I was going to make sandwiches for both of us for lunch, but when I went shopping, I didn't get any tomatoes. Could you run to the store and get some?"

"Okay. I'll go." Soda looked around. "Where are your keys?"

"Over there on the table. Thanks, little buddy."

Soda picked up the keys to Darry's truck. "No problem. I'll be right back."

* * *

Steve closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead and taking a deep breath, before speaking. "I don't know where to start this week."

"Wherever you'd like, Steve," Laura said, an open notebook in her lap and a pen in her hand.

Steve opened his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not doing so great anymore. I don't think so anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

Steve looked up, his eyes wandering to the window. "Evie said something to me the other night I'm not too sure about. She's right, but I can't decide how I feel about it. I'm still having a lot of really bad times, where I'm either scared or panicking or stuck in a memory. I got so stuck a couple of nights ago, I pushed my dad away from me. The night before that, Soda was at my house, and I got sick when I heard him drop something in the kitchen when I was in bed. Oh, and I forgot I had a panic attack at school one day."

"Okay. What did Evie say to you?"

"No, I can't start there." Steve continued to avoid Laura's gaze. "I have to tell you something else first."

Laura put her pen and notebook on her desk, setting her folded hands in her lap. "I'm listening."

"There's something I didn't tell you before. You don't have to tell me I should have cause I already know, and I didn't mean to lie." Steve blinked away tears, his voice shaking. " I didn't want you to think I'm crazy. We were already talking about so much stuff that's hard. I guess I just thought I could handle it, but it's gotten worse."

"Steve, it's okay. I won't think you're crazy. You can tell me. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't. I'm only here to help. What else is going on?"

* * *

Soda tossed the plastic bag that held three tomatoes into the passenger seat, then started the truck, pulling away from the store. Deciding to go for a short drive, he went left instead of right. He could take the long way home.

Soda pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and rolled the window down. He felt the scenery race by him and the wind blowing in his face. He accelerated more, not even sparing the speedometer a glance.

* * *

"It's still okay, Steve," Laura said.

Steve nodded, his head resting in his palm, as he stared at the floor. "I'm sorry I lied. I just want to feel better. I want to be okay. I want this to stop." Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I want the memories to stop too."

"I understand. But you're doing a good thing talking about this. You're having suicidal thoughts because you've been under continued emotional stress, not because you want to die. I'm very concerned about this, and I know you're afraid, but it doesn't mean you will hurt yourself. It means you need support to manage these thoughts and feelings."

"Okay."

"I have some questions I need to ask. There's no right or wrong way to answer them. Just tell me what you're thinking."

* * *

Soda groaned when he saw the red and blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror. "Darry's going to kill me," he mumbled, as he pulled over to the side of the road.

He reached for his wallet, taking out his license, noticing the smile he wore in the picture. The police officer knocked on the window, and Soda rolled it down.

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going, Kid?"

* * *

Laura picked up the notebook she had put on her desk and turned to a blank page of paper, as she also picked up the pen. "I've asked the questions I needed to assess whether or not you're at immediate risk of attempting to kill yourself, and I don't believe you are, based on what you told me."

Steve nodded, dried tears still on his face. "Okay."

"I'm still very concerned because of the trauma you experienced in your childhood and the continued effects of it on your life and your relationships. You're under significant stress too because of the flashbacks and the anxiety. But you need to know I think it's a good sign you sought out people to talk to when you were alone with suicidal thoughts."

"So what now?" Steve swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at his lap. "What happens?"

Laura slid forward, sitting on the edge of her chair, tilting her head to meet Steve's eyes. "We're going to make a plan of what you can do when you have these thoughts. The key to not acting on an urge or impulse is to disarm it with some sort of constructive distraction. As you know, those feelings do pass, even when it doesn't feel like it in those moments."

"Distraction?" Steve let his arms rest, hands falling to his lap. "Like what?"

"Anything that isn't destructive. Things you like to do, what helps you relax, or focus. Of course, talking to a friend or family member about how you're feeling is very helpful. I think that was what you needed, and you may again. I just don't want that to be your only option."

"So what else can I do?" Steve lifted his head, focusing on Laura. "It makes me feel so trapped, and it's hard to think of anything but making the pain stop."

Laura sat back in her chair, using her pen to write on the blank page in the notebook. "Exactly. That's one reason I'm so concerned. If these thoughts are all you focus on, you're more likely to act on a suicidal urge." She looked from the paper to Steve, the pen still in her hand. "That impulse will get stronger and harder to control, especially when you're experiencing such difficult and painful emotions. So we're going to write down a list of different things you can do and people to call. That way, when you have these feelings and are in that distressed state of mind, these options will be right in front of you. You won't have to try to think over these thoughts and impulses to figure out how to handle it. No matter where you are or what's happening, you'll have a healthier way to cope and stay safe."

* * *

Soda stared at the speeding ticket he had received. He hadn't gotten one since just after he first started driving. Still, he shrugged, tucking it into his wallet. He put the wallet in his pocket, then started the truck again, going forward toward an intersection.

Soda took the next turn to head in the direction of home. He had told Darry he would be right back, and he'd been gone a while now. He lightened up on the gas pedal, eyeing the speedometer as the truck slowed down. Soda wasn't in a hurry to get home anyway. Darry was going to care more about the speeding ticket than he could because, truth be told, it didn't matter to him at all.

* * *

Laura ripped the page from her notebook, handing it to Steve. "Hang onto this. Write it out again, so you have more than one. Add things if you need to."

Steve took the paper, looking over all they had chosen to put in the plan, before folding it up.

"I want to see you again in a couple of days. Call if you need to come before that."

* * *

"I was beginning to think you got lost," Darry said, as Soda put the tomatoes in the refrigerator and closed it.

"Nah. Was just driving around," Soda said, as he put his wallet on the counter. He felt something else in his pocket and pulled it out, realizing it was his license. He opened his wallet to put it back in its place, and the speeding ticket fell to the floor.

Darry started to walk past Soda and paused in front of him, watching as his brother scooped up the ticket, shoving it back in his wallet. "What's that?"

Soda closed the wallet, folding it up. "What's what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Sodapop. I know what a ticket looks like."

* * *

Nicholas set his car keys in his lap, one hand on the steering wheel, as he turned to Steve. "Are you okay, Son?"

Steve nodded, unfolding the paper he still held, looking at it again. He blinked, reading over the words on the page that could help him the next time he needed to get the dark thoughts in his head to dissipate.

Nicholas ran his fingers through Steve's hair, then rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Steve kept his head down. "I think so. She was real good. She kind of made me feel a little better. But, at the same time, I'm not sure."

Nicholas nodded toward the paper Steve had folded back up. "What's that?"

"She asked me a bunch of questions to make sure I'm not planning to kill myself."

Nicholas felt his hand grip the steering wheel tighter, then found himself squeezing Steve's shoulder.

Steve looked up quickly. "I'm not, Dad. Okay? She just had to ask."

Nicholas blinked, keeping his eyes closed, as he nodded. "Okay. So she asked about that, then what?"

"That's what I was about to tell you. We talked about different things I can do when I feel- Well, when I feel like I might hurt myself or when I think about it. And she wrote it all down."

Nicholas let go of Steve's shoulder, then squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you talked to her."

"Me too. She told me that I don't have suicidal thoughts because I want to die, I have them because of emotional stress, and that it doesn't mean I want to hurt myself."

"So what are you not sure about?"

"I know Laura can't just make it go away, but I guess part of me still hoped there could be more, especially since I'm still having flashbacks and all of that. I guess I wanted more of a fix, even though I know there isn't one. I'm always having to just deal with stuff. I can never make it totally better."

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'd go through it all for you if I could.

"Don't say that, Dad." Steve shook his head, folding the paper up again and holding it tighter. "Knowing what it's like, I couldn't let you feel like I have been. Even if you could, I wouldn't let you do it."

* * *

"It's no big deal," Soda said, tossing his wallet back onto the counter.

I didn't send you to the store, so you could go and get pulled over for speeding," Darry said, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing his brother. "You know you can't go around having a lead foot."

Soda shrugged. "Yeah, I know."

Darry narrowed his eyes. "I assume you'll care a bit more when that comes out of your paycheck?"

Soda shrugged once more, shaking his head, as he started to walk away from Darry. "I really don't care about the damn ticket."

"Sodapop, sit down." Darry pointed to the couch. "I want to know now what the hell has been going on in that head of yours. You haven't been making good decisions lately."

Soda kept walking. "Get off my back."

Darry stepped forward and reached for Soda's arm. "No, you're not walking away this time."

Soda froze, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Darry, please. Can we talk about this later?"

"No!" Darry still held onto Soda's arm and came to stand in front of him. "What is going on? You're telling me right now."

"Fine!" Soda took a step back, pulling his arm out of Darry's grip. "I've been so fuckin' scared to death that I just don't care if I'm out at two in the morning or driving too fast! At least if I'm doing that, I ain't thinking about anything else!" He turned and bolted away.

Darry heard Soda's bedroom door slam shut and didn't hesitate to go after him. He pushed the door open to see Soda slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking. Darry settled himself behind his brother, a hand on his back. "Little buddy, what were you talking about back there?"

Soda leaned his head against the wall, tears on his face. "Darry, we lost our parents."

"Yeah."

Soda covered his face. "And we lost two friends."

Darry moved to sit in front of Soda, putting a hand on his arm. "We did. What's bothering you right now? You said you're scared."

"I can't think about losing anybody else." Soda lifted his head, then let it rest on Darry's shoulder.

"You're starting to scare me too." Darry brought one arm around Soda, giving him a squeeze, before gently pushing him back to see his face. "Why are you scared? What's making you think about losing anybody else?"

Soda took a shaky breath, wiping tears from his face. "You remember when I went home with Steve the other night?"

Darry nodded. "Yeah."

"I wanted to make sure he talked to his dad that night because he told me-" Soda felt a lump in his throat, as he tried to speak over more rising emotion. "He told me he was having thoughts about killing himself. That he was afraid he would hurt himself if he was alone."

"Damn." Darry touched Soda's cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "So did he talk to his dad?"

"Yeah. Darry, it was so hard to hear that. He kept saying he doesn't want to die, but it scared me. It still does."

"I'm sure it does, Pepsi Cola."

Soda felt his eyes fill with more tears that he didn't wipe away, just letting them fall down his cheeks. "I can't think about losing my best friend too."

Darry drew Soda close, letting him rest his head on his shoulder again, as he held him.

* * *

"Hey, Soda, you home?"

Soda heard Steve's voice and pulled away from Darry, wiping his eyes, as he shook his head. "I don't want him to know about any of this."

"I won't say anything, little buddy," Darry said, getting to his feet and helping his brother up. "You going to be okay?"

Soda nodded, still sniffling. "Yeah, I hope so anyway." He left his bedroom and found Steve standing by the front door. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, noticing how red his best friend's eyes were. "Don't even try to tell me you haven't been crying."

"It's nothing, man. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

Soda opened the door, stepping outside, Steve right behind him. "Yeah. It's no big deal. You know I'm a bawl baby anyway. So did you talk to Laura today?"

"I did. That's what I came here to tell you."

"How did it go?"

"She wasn't upset with me or anything. She's real concerned, but it'd be weird if she wasn't. She wants to see me again in a couple of days."

"Good. So did she tell you what to do? What can help?"


	16. Chapter 16

Nicholas poured a can of mixed vegetables into the pot of boiling water, then turned down the heat on the burner. He peeked into the oven, checking on the chicken that was baking, before picking up the Bible that lay on the counter to the left of the stove.

Nicholas flipped the Bible open, again unsure what he should read. He turned to the page where he'd left the green ribbon bookmark, going back to Elijah's story.

"And he said, 'Go forth and stand upon the mount before the Lord.' And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind, an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake, and after the earthquake, a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire, a still, small voice."

Nicholas read the verses, finding himself wondering about the "still, small voice." Was that God's? Was that his way of speaking to Elijah on the mountain? The Bible said God wasn't in the wind or the earthquake or the fire. But was he present in the quietness after these forces of nature had passed? He pondered the scene of wind breaking mountains and rocks, then that same place being shaken by an earthquake. God had to be there somewhere, even if he didn't speak or make his presence known.

Nicholas peeked at the baking chicken once more, as he set the Bible back on the counter. He found a pot holder, then reached in and slid the glass baking dish from the oven rack, putting it down on top of the stove. He switched the oven off, then turned down the heat on the burner where the vegetables were still cooking, leaving them to simmer.

Nicholas picked up the Bible again, remembering there had also been a fire. He pictured the area destroyed, then Elijah hearing what he guessed must be a whisper. He didn't know or understand the entire context of the passage in 1 Kings, but something about it struck him, realizing God may have not been visible in the chaos, but he let the prophet hear his voice in the stillness afterward.

Nicholas couldn't see God's hand or hear his voice in a way that was as obvious as wind blowing, the earth shaking, or the heat of a fire. Yet, he knew, just as Elijah must have, that he was there. Maybe God didn't have to be loud or show his presence in the big displays of power or nature. After all, hadn't he, within that same chapter of scripture, taken care of Elijah in his time of despair just by bringing him rest and nourishment?

Maybe God was always there, working in the midst of whispers and near silence. That gave Nicholas hope that God's hand was somewhere working to help Steve. His son was struggling again, and it made him afraid. Yet, Steve's words to him continued to be like a healing balm that touched his heart in a way that could only be an answer to prayer, even if Steve wasn't in a place to see it that way.

Nicholas was in awe of the love Steve continued to show him. He thought back to Steve's answers to his questioning prayers and saw that moment as one that began carving the path to forgiving himself. In the face of his own unanswerable questions, his son had found it in himself to reach out to Nicholas and tell him he didn't let the abuse happen, that he couldn't have known because that was how Clara meant it to be. Then, just today, Nicholas had expressed the truth to Steve, saying he would take the pain and go through it all for him if he could. Steve's quick answer that he wouldn't let his dad do that, even if it were possible, had made him not know what to say. To Nicholas, there small moments were evidence of the blessing their relationship now was, even as Steve struggled with both flashbacks and suicidal feelings.

Even though Nicholas could still see the path to forgiving himself now, hearing Steve talk about the thoughts of self-harm had altered it, creating a detour of sorts. As much as he knew Steve didn't blame him, he still felt the pull to blame himself, to take as much of the burden as he could. He knew that his son had forgiven him for causing him to keep the pain he had experienced locked inside when he was a little boy. Even so, Nicholas still went back to that time, unable to keep himself from wondering if Steve would be hurting as much now if he hadn't tried to bury the whole situation in the past. If he had handled the aftermath of the abuse in a healthier way, would Steve still experience the thoughts that made him fear he would hurt himself?

Nicholas closed the Bible, keeping the green ribbon bookmark in 1 Kings 19. He set it down, the opened the nearest cabinet and pulled out two plates, before turning the stove burner all the way off.

"God, what else can I do?" Nicholas asked, praying aloud. "I'm there for Steve, but I feel like I can never do enough."

He wanted to do as much as he could to help Steve heal, and he cared much more about that than the path to forgiveness he was still unsure how to navigate. How could he fully forgive himself knowing Steve continued to hurt so much that there were times he was afraid to be alone? What would forgiving himself mean anyway?

* * *

"She didn't ask a bunch of questions, trying to figure out why I would feel like this," Steve said, taking a puff of his cigarette, as he paced in front of his car.

"I'm sure she just wants to make sure that you're, you know, safe," Soda said, sitting on the hood of the car.

"Yeah." Steve let out a breath of smoke. "I guess it ain't hard for her to see why I would feel like self-destructing anyway."

Soda's eyes drifted down to the driveway, as he slid off of the hood of the car, his feet hitting the gravel. "Well, just please, whenever you do feel that way, it doesn't matter why, use what she wrote down on that paper."

"It just seems too easy, you know?" Steve paused, taking another drag off the cigarette.

Soda nodded. "Yeah, but it has to be. It she told you something complicated to do, you couldn't. Not when you're feeling like that."

"I don't know. I guess I expected some kind of big answer." Steve leaned against his car, flicking ashes on the ground.

"What do you mean?" Soda went to stand beside Steve, propping his elbow up on the side view mirror.

"Like maybe she would know exactly why and where this comes from, then that could make it better. Maybe even easier. Sometimes, I've found that if I really understand why I feel the way I do or why I remember certain things, it seems less powerful."

"But you don't have to understand it all at once, Stevie."

"I get it's the stress, the emotions, the pain. I guess that's all I'm going to figure out right now."

"Man, honestly, it seems like enough to me. I haven't ever felt like- I mean, I haven't ever felt like you have been, but I get how you could. But try not to worry so much about why right now."

Steve grinned at Soda. "I know. I'll just do what Laura told me." He tossed the cigarette away, the grin slipping from his face. "Soda, I know this can't be easy to listen to."

"It's not, but I'd rather hear it than you keep it to yourself. Man, I'm no counselor, but it seems like you must've taken some power away from these kinds of feelings by talking about them."

* * *

Evie knocked on the Randles' door, before she looked inside, seeing Steve's dad in front of the stove. She opened the door. "Hi, Mr. Randle."

Nicholas looked up from the chicken he had been cutting up. "Hi, Evie."

"Is Steve home? I saw his car."

"Yeah, he just got home, actually." Nicholas put down the knife he'd been using and turned around. "Steve! Evie's here!"

Steve came into the kitchen. "Hey, sweetie."

Nicholas smiled. "Nice to see you too, Honey."

Steve laughed, rolling his eyes. "You're real funny, Dad.

"I try," Nicholas said. "Evie, you want to stay for dinner?"

"I would, but I told my mom I wouldn't be gone long," Evie said. "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, Steve."

Steve followed Evie outside, taking her hand in his own. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. I just didn't see a lot of you at school today, and I know you had counseling this afternoon."

"Yeah, I did."

"I guess I just wanted to check on you. I know it's hard."

"Thanks. Um, actually, you got enough time for me to tell you something? It's just speaking of counseling, well, there's something I should tell you."

"Sure. I think so anyway."

"Let's sit down. It's kind of tough." Steve led Evie to the porch swing, where both of them sat down. Steve released her hand. "But I've been spilling my guts a lot lately. I ought to be used to it. Part of me thinks we shouldn't keep talking about this stuff, but I don't know how else to deal. There's something I talked about with Laura. It's about when I had the flashback when I was with you."

Evie put her hand on Steve's knee. "We'll talk about it if you want. You can tell me."

"I don't want to make this worse. I just want you to understand."

"I think I already do understand why that happened, Steve. It's hard for me to accept because of what I told you a couple of nights ago, but if I can understand more, that's a good thing."

Steve let his eyes meet Evie's. "Laura got me to go back to the exact moment I froze, just before I told you I couldn't do it and ran away. It doesn't change anything, but I don't think it was only cause of what we were doing or cause you were touching me. It might have happened anyway, but there's more to why it did right then."

"Okay. So what else was it?"

Steve opened his mouth, trying to form the words he needed, then saw the epiphanies Laura had helped him reach tangle together in his mind, creating a twisted web of confusion. "I can't do this."

* * *

"You good, Sodapop?" Darry asked, going inside his brother's room, where he lie stretched out on his bed.

Soda sat up, crossing his legs. "I think so. Better anyway. I don't want Steve to know I've been that scared cause I think he wouldn't come to me if he did."

"You're probably right." Darry sat down beside Soda. "You and me still need to talk about the last couple of days."

Soda bowed his head, feeling Darry's hand rest on his back. "I know."

"First, I know you tell Steve not to keep shit inside, and you're right. But don't you do that either. You don't have to do anything crazy to get my attention. You already have it, little buddy."

Soda's head snapped up, as he locked eyes with Darry. "That's not what I was doing. I know that."

"Then, what were you doing?"

"I guess I was trying to get away from feeling scared. Today, the faster I drove, the less I thought about anything else. And the other night, it's not what I set out to do by going out with her, but I found when I was kissing Suzie, the rest of my mind went blank. I really do like her though, Dar."

"I know you do." Darry rubbed Soda's back for a moment, before dropping his hand into his lap. "I get the feeling you didn't stop at kissing."

"No. We didn't. But I swear I wasn't being as dumb as you're thinking right now."

"Good to know. Where did you guys go that night anyway?"

"A park not far from her house. There's this spot that's sort of off, away from everything else."

Darry shook his head, letting out a breath. "Lucky the fuzz didn't catch you out there. Damn lucky her parents didn't see she was gone too."

Soda let his head hang down once more. "I know. I'm sorry."

Darry touched the back of Soda's head. "Hey, I'm not saying any of this to make you feel worse. But you're still seventeen, and I still have custody of you. Even when I don't, I don't want you to use that as an excuse to do anything that can land you in trouble."

"I got it, Dar. I'm sorry about today too."

"I guess I don't need to tell you you're not going to be borrowing my truck for a while. No dates either. And don't even think about sneaking out."

Soda sighed. "Yeah. I guess I deserve that. All of it."

"I'm not mad at you, Pepsi Cola. I just need you to know you can't do whatever you feel like because you're hurting. You have to remember too I know what it feels like to be scared. That's when you need to come to me. That's also when your judgment will be off, and it won't always turn out so good."

* * *

Steve pulled the plan Laura had written for him out of his pocket and unfolded it, as he sat down on his bed. He opened his night stand drawer and found a pencil, then ripped a small sheet of paper from a notepad.

Steve drew lines on each side of the paper, dividing it into five sections. Scanning the paper in Laura's handwriting, he wrote a heading at the top of each one: Things to do, People to talk to, Ways to relax, Places to go, Things to remember.

Steve heard a knock and looked up, seeing Nicholas. "Hey, Dad." He went back to rewriting the lists, trying to get the ideas stuck in his memory.

"You doing okay, Son?" Nicholas asked.

"Yeah." Steve kept his eyes on the papers in front of him. "When I was out there talking to Evie, I almost told her something. But I just couldn't do it."

"Okay."

"I wanted to, but at the same time, I don't." Steve wrote down a few more things, the lines of the paper filling up. Once he was finished, he folded up the paper he'd been writing on and tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping. He put the paper Laura had given him face up on the night stand, deciding that would be a good place to leave it.

Nicholas sat down next to Steve. "I think that's all right, Steve. You can tell her whatever it is when you're ready."

"She pretty much said the same thing. I just kind of feel like I owe her more of an explanation, especially after what she told me after our date Saturday night."

"An explanation? For what?"

"I was trying to tell her more about why I had that flashback when I did. It's hard to get into that though, and I'm not sure I wouldn't make things even worse."

"Give it some time, then you can try again if you want to. You think you two are doing okay now?"

"Yeah. Not great, but I understand, with the way she was feeling, how she could say the things she did and even how she could kiss somebody else. But part of me still feels like she couldn't want me. I sure couldn't imagine telling her the rest of what's been going on with me."

"That's up to you, Son. You don't have to."

"I don't know if things will ever be the same between us." Steve saw Nicholas' eyes drift to the paper on the night stand. "You can read it, Dad."

Nicholas reached over and picked up the sheet of paper, reading over it. "It makes sense to focus on getting your mind somewhere else or even just trying to relax."

"It does. But I'm still scared."

Nicholas set the paper back down, then rested a hand on Steve's leg. "I think you've already been doing some of this."

"Yeah. I have. But there are times I've done nothing, but wait and dwell on whatever is going through my mind. That's exactly what I shouldn't do though."

"I have to ask you a question because I need to do everything I can to help keep you safe."

"Okay."

Nicholas looked away. "Damn, this is hard to say." He took a deep breath, before focusing on Steve, willing the words to spill from his lips. "Is there anything that is here in this house that shouldn't be? Do I need to put anything away that you don't feel safe around?"

Steve's gaze drifted down to his hands that lay in his lap. "I don't think so. It's not like there's anything specific that I have thought about doing."

Nicholas nodded. "All right. I just needed to ask. I mean, I know there's nothing around here that's really dangerous, but I've never felt like I would..." He trailed off, looking away again. "So I don't know."

Steve patted Nicholas' shoulder. "It's not a bad question, Dad. Kind of like some of what Laura had to ask me. Hey, I think I'm going to get ready for bed. It's been a real long day."

* * *

"Everything okay, Mr. Randle?" Mrs. Patterson asked Steve, after she finished erasing the math equations from the chalkboard.

Steve closed his textbook and stacked it on top of two notebooks. "Sure. Why?"

"You're a good student, so it's easy for me to see when you're having trouble focusing. When I called on you earlier, you looked startled."

"I guess I just wasn't expecting it."

"It's nothing to worry about, but I've noticed some mistakes in your work lately too. Like I said, you're a good student, so I see those kinds of things easily."

"I'm sorry. I-" Steve stopped when he saw a football coming toward him. He caught it before scowling at TwoBit. "For crying outloud, man, we're inside the school."

"Just announcing my presence!" TwoBit said, as he caught the ball that Steve tossed back to him.

"Oh, your presence is well known around here, Keith Mathews," Mrs. Patterson said, smiling.

"Aw, you guys know you're going to miss me around here next year," TwoBit said.

Steve picked up his textbook and notebooks. "Keep telling yourself that, man." He walked over to TwoBit. "But these teachers will be throwing a big party when you graduate."

"Yeah, they will, and I'll be joining it!" TwoBit added, tossing the football in the air and catching it.

Steve shook his head, grinning at his friend, before turning back to Mrs. Patterson. "I promise I'll pay more attention when I'm doing my work."

"Don't stress about it, Steve," Mrs. Patterson said, as she flipping through her pages of lesson plans. "You're still doing fine. Just always check your work. They're not big mistakes, like you don't understand the concepts, just the kind of small ones that cause you to arrive at the incorrect solution."

* * *

"Hey, Sodapop! You can head out. I'm here," Steve yelled to his friend, who was in the garage. Not hearing a reply, he looked in and saw Soda was staring under the hood of a Ford pick-up. "Soda?"

Soda blinked suddenly, looking toward Steve. "Huh?"

"What are you thinking about, man?"

Soda let the hood slam shut. "Nothing. Just got done putting some fluids in this truck."

"Well, you can go. I got it."

"Oh. Coleman said to tell you you're good to be off tomorrow afternoon for your appointment. I told him I'd work extra and cover for you."

"Aw, I thought he'd call in one of the other guys. I didn't know he'd ask you to do that."

"He didn't." Soda grinned. "I just told him I wanted to."

* * *

Samuel poured iced tea into the glass Nicholas held. "So what did you want to ask me?"

Nicholas lifted the glass, sipping the tea, before speaking. "It's about forgiveness, and it seems like a crazy question. At least in my head it does. Because this should be simple, right?"

Samuel poured tea into his own glass, then put the pitcher in the refrigerator. "Depends what you're talking about."

"I know what Pastor David said on Sunday, and I get it. I believe it. I know God forgives us when we ask. That's why Jesus died on the cross."

Samuel nodded. "Right."

Nicholas set his glass down on the table, sitting back in his chair. "But what does forgiveness really mean?"

Samuel sat down across from Nicholas, his elbows resting on the table, as he looked at his friend. "You mean like what does it mean when God forgives us?"

"I think I already know that because it means he takes our sin away. We become his. So I think I want to know what it means for people to forgive."

Samuel took a swallow of his tea, a thoughtful look on his face. "God cancels the debt when he forgives us. He doesn't hold our sin against us." He set the glass back down on the table. "And he's not angry. He lets it go and creates a relationship with us. That's what we can do with other people too."

Nicholas leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. "You know why I'm asking this, don't you?"

"I believe so. You're still trying to figure out how to forgive yourself."

"Steve's forgiven me so completely, it amazes me. He really doesn't hold anything against me. He's done exactly what you just said God does. But that's so much harder to do for myself, especially when he's still in pain."

"If you don't forgive yourself, that isn't going to make him feel less pain, Nicholas."

Nicholas sighed. "I know. I do know that, but it's almost like I think if I really let it go and stop being mad at myself, then I'm letting him hurt alone." He rested his face on the palm of one hand. "And I'm not shouldering any of this for him."

Samuel tilted his head to the side, meeting Nicholas' gaze. "You think if you make yourself hurt enough, blame yourself enough, are sorry enough, you can fix this."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows, nodding. "Something like that. Yeah."

"You're allowed to forgive yourself, you know. But it's a process. It doesn't happen overnight, and you have to let yourself do it. I'm not trying to make it sound easy. I know it's not. I remember thinking if I forgave myself after Matthew died, it meant I didn't miss him enough. I guess part of me thought I could bring him back if I kept hating myself."

"I know it doesn't change anything to keep blaming myself for everything that happened, but it feels like I have to, even though Steve doesn't blame me. At least if I hang onto this, I have some control over what's happening."

"I get the logic. After I lost my son, I struggled so much, and I wanted to take that pain and grief Vivian felt too. I finally realized I couldn't. It didn't matter how much I decided to hate myself, I couldn't bring him back or make her hurt less."

Nicholas ran his hands down his face, staring at Samuel. "I'm sorry. I know you must not want to talk about this. That's not what I was trying to do at all."

Samuel smiled softly. "Hey, if it has some chance of helping you, it's fine."

Vivian walked up behind Samuel and hugged him. "I couldn't help hearing." She kissed the side of his head.

"That's okay," Nicholas said.

"I don't know anything about what happened, Nicholas," Vivian said. "But I know it's hard to watch someone you love hurt." She gave Samuel one more squeeze and let go, but kept an arm around him. "I lost my son, and I miss him more all the time, but I was afraid I was going to lose my husband too. It really scared me to think of it."

Samuel touched Vivian's hand that rested on his shoulder, squeezing it. "She helped me a lot because, as much as I believed she should, she didn't blame me. I think God used her to help save me from myself."

* * *

Steve got out of his car and saw Nicholas on the front porch. "You just get home too, Dad?"

Nicholas puffed on a cigarette. "Yeah."

Steve walked from his car to the porch steps. He paused on the top step, eyeing the cigarette Nicholas was holding. "You haven't smoked since I was a kid."

Nicholas shrugged, exhaling smoke. "Needed something, I guess."

Steve went to stand next to Nicholas, both of them leaning on the porch railing. "Where'd you go tonight?"

Nicholas took another drag off the cigarette. "You might not want to know that."

"Huh?"

"I was at Samuel's house."

"Oh."

"So how was work?"

"It was okay, I guess. Hey, are you coming with me tomorrow?"

Nicholas grinned. "To work?"

Steve smirked. "No, you smart ass." He shook his head, voice getting soft. "I mean to see Laura."

Nicholas put his cigarette out, tossing it over the railing. "Of course I am, Son."


	17. Chapter 17

Nicholas opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and pulled out a bottle of pain relief caplets. He opened the lid, letting two fall into his hand. He put the lid back on and picked up his glass of water, swallowing the medicine. He put the bottle back inside the cabinet and rubbed his head, hoping the ache would dull soon, then wandered back into his bedroom, putting his glass of water down on the dresser.

"Dad?"

Nicholas looked toward his door, seeing Steve there, a deck of cards in his hand. "Yeah?"

Steve swallowed, fidgeting with the cards, as he looked down at his feet. "Would you play cards with me?"

"Are you okay, Son?"

Steve rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking. "Not really."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I just feel- I need to do something. I need to get my head somewhere else. Please."

Nicholas stood in front of Steve, a hand on each of his son's shoulders. "You're all right. We'll play."

* * *

Nicholas broke the deck of cards in half, beginning to shuffle.

"Can I do it?" Steve asked.

"Do what?" Nicholas wondered.

"Shuffle. Can I shuffle?"

"Sure." Nicholas gave Steve the cards. "Are you feeling any better?" He grinned. "You were focused enough to beat me."

Steve shuffled the cards, watching them bridge together beneath his thumbs, then quickly stack back into place. "Yeah, I think so."

"Tell me if you want to talk."

Steve continued to shuffle, seeing the black and red symbols blending together. "I don't. Not this time. I just want to play."

* * *

Nicholas checked the time, deciding he would let Steve sleep a few more minutes. His son usually set an alarm, and he had either forgotten or slept through it. He cracked one more egg on the edge of the frying pan. He used a spatula to scramble the eggs, as he looked outside, noticing gray clouds already in the early morning sky.

Nicholas felt a chill, remembering his talk with Samuel the day before. Though he hadn't intended to get his friend talking about Matthew at all, he found hearing about his grief was even harder than it had already been.

He couldn't help but think of how he would feel if he lost Steve. Nicholas was certain he would be a lot like Samuel, only there would be no saving him. He wouldn't make it through that at all. He didn't want to think about it, but after hearing both Samuel's and Vivian's words, Nicholas' mind wandered into the territory that terrified him in a way nothing else could. He knew loss. He knew grief. He had buried his beloved wife. Yet, he couldn't fathom the thought of burying his son. Just at the thought, Nicholas felt his throat begin to close up. Samuel hadn't told him many details about the days following Matthew's death, much like he hadn't told him the whole story about the abuse Steve endured. Still, he could discern that it was a strikingly dark time in Samuel's life, one that only God could've pulled him through.

Nicholas put a hand on his chest, reminding himself that he didn't need to think about this. Steve was alive. He wasn't going to die because he had suicidal thoughts. He was doing exactly what he needed to do to deal with that.

Nicholas felt his heart beat, as he smelled the scrambled eggs. He took a deep breath. No, he wouldn't even think about losing Steve. The only thing worse than seeing his son in pain would be not having him in his life. He couldn't bear the thought, knowing that trying to live without Steve would kill him too.

* * *

"So how have the last couple of days been, Steve?" Laura asked.

"When I've had the thoughts about hurting myself, I've done what you told me," Steve said. "I think it helped. But I think my dad is really worried."

"Seems understandable. But why do you say that?"

"He was smoking last night, and he never smokes. Not in years anyway. He asked me if there's anything in the house he needs to put away."

"Anything like what?"

Steve fidgeted, tapping his fingers on his legs, as he shifted in the chair. "Like anything I could use to hurt myself."

Laura nodded. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him no. I mean, there's nothing I'm thinking I'm about to do so..."

"So when you had the suicidal thoughts, what did you do that helped?"

Steve dropped his hands to the chair cushion, then shoved them underneath his legs. "I asked my dad to play cards with me. It was kind of late last night, but we did. I didn't exactly tell him what was going on, but I think he got it."

"I'm glad, as I've told you before, that you have so much support."

Steve nodded at Laura, as his eyes drifted to the window. The bright yellow curtains were pulled open, as always. He didn't shift his gaze again, before speaking. "Do you remember that day we talked about the flashback I had when I was with Evie, and you helped me understand the trigger?"

"I do. Do you want to talk more about that?"

Steve could see gray clouds moving in front of the sun, making only hints of light come through the window's glass. "Yeah. Because it made me think about something that makes me feel so confused. I don't think anyone else could understand this."

* * *

"Things go okay with Laura, Son?" Nicholas asked.

"I don't feel like talking anymore, Dad," Steve said. "Can we please just go home?"

"Okay, just checking on you."

Nicholas pushed down on the gas pedal, watching the road, but still able to see Steve out of the corner of his eye. His son had his head resting against the back of the seat, seeming to be staring at the houses they passed on the street.

As the car traveled toward the Randles' home, slivers of blue sky were visible in the midst of the clouds that made it appear dark outside. Though the light of day was fading, the sun still shone among the gray.

* * *

"What are you doing out here?" Soda asked, when he opened the back door and saw Steve under a tree in the yard, the early evening sky above him.

"Nothing," Steve said. "Just here. It feels good outside."

Soda shot Steve a grin. "Yeah, til it pours on you."

Steve sighed. "Maybe."

Soda walked away from the porch, sitting down beside Steve, his back against the tree trunk. "It's so dark already."

Steve glanced at his friend. "Thanks for covering for me at work."

"Anytime, buddy. I told you I wanted to."

Steve's eyes drifted down to the ground underneath him, as his fingers pulled at the green grass. "Hey, Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you take a walk with me?"

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter. Around the block. Anywhere. I can't be just sitting here like this right now. It's not good."

"Okay." Soda stood to his feet, holding a hand out to Steve. "Let's go."

* * *

Soda paused and looked up, as he felt rain drops. "Well, I needed a shower anyway."

Steve shrugged, still walking. "It's just sprinkling, man."

Soda started walking again, turning so he was going backwards. "Hey, I wasn't complaining."

Steve watched Soda for a few moments. "You're going to fall on your ass if you keep walking like that."

Soda smiled, still walking backwards. "Good. Then, you'll laugh at me."

Steve felt a smile tug at his lips. "You're such a goof."

"I know it." Soda turned around to face forward, seeing Steve's house come back into view. "We walked around the block. Now what?"

"I don't know. Don't you need to get home?"

"Maybe soon. It ain't a big deal though. You know that."

Soda and Steve traveled the remaining distance back to the house, stopping behind Nicholas' car at the end of the driveway.

Steve looked toward the house, seeing his dad through the window. "Thanks, Soda. I know I'm not fun company tonight."

Soda leaned up against the back of Nicholas' car, facing Steve. "Don't worry about that. Did the walk help?"

Steve nodded, noticing the rain drops that continued to fall around them. "It got me out of my head some anyway."

"That's probably what you needed."

"Yeah, me and Laura talked about some stuff today that I hadn't before. I wanted to, and I know it's a good thing, but thinking about it seems like it screwed with my mind. But it doesn't take much to do that lately anyway."

Soda squeezed Steve's shoulder. "Keep talking to her, and eventually, you'll get all of that stuff out. That'll help you. I know it."

* * *

Nicholas stretched his legs out on his bed, the Bible in his lap. He flipped it to a page in the middle, finding the Psalms. He was scanning them, seeing more of Rose's notes and even a handful of his own, when Steve came into the room.

Nicholas started to close the Bible, but Steve spoke before he could. "You don't have to close it, Dad."

Steve crossed the room and sat on the bed, drawing close to Nicholas. He wrapped his arms around him, his head on his dad's shoulder.

Nicholas rubbed Steve's back. "You okay, Son?"

Steve didn't let go, as he turned his head to see the Bible in his dad's lap. "I wish I could feel what you do. About God, I mean." He read the first verse on the page that started with Psalm 57.

"Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, be merciful to me, for in thee my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of thy wings I will take refuge, til the storms of destruction pass by."

Steve closed his eyes, Nicholas' arms also around him, as his head still rested on his shoulder, "Refuge, huh? I could use one of those."

* * *

Evie came up behind Steve in the courtyard just outside the cafeteria. "Hi, sweetie."

Steve turned around, then sat down on the bench near him. "Hey." He started to unzip his backpack.

Evie sat down beside Steve, putting a hand on his back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Steve gave Evie a half-smile, as he put his textbooks inside the backpack.

"Are we going out this weekend?"

"If you want to, I guess we can do something."

"So what should we do then?"

Steve zipped the backpack up, then lifted it off the ground, as he stood up. He checked his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there. "Let's just grab a burger or something Saturday night and hang out."

"Okay. Sounds good."

Steve felt Evie's lips press against his cheek when she stood up. Her arms slid around him in a quick embrace, before she spotted Patricia and hurried away. He raised a hand and touched his cheek where Evie had kissed him. He let his fingers brush over the place her lips had been, before he dropped his hand back to his side.

"I've never been more confused in my life," Steve found himself mumbling under his breath, before he turned, walking toward the school's parking lot.

* * *

"Hey, Steve, don't forget to grab your paycheck when you're done out there!" Mr. Coleman yelled, from outside the DX garage.

Steve nodded at his boss, pulling the handle on the nozzle to put gas in the car that was next to him. He tried to focus, his fingers gripping the metal, the numbers on the pump increasing.

Steve eyed the next couple of cars in line and glanced inside, seeing his coworker, Billy, at the cash register. The pump finished, as he ran a hand through his hair, letting the strands brush over his fingers. "Not here. Please not here."

Steve pulled the nozzle out of the car's gas tank and replaced the cap. He was putting it back into its cradle when he clenched his eyes shut, his grip tightening. He took a quick breath, pulling his hand away from the nozzle when he heard a voice.

"You okay there, Kid?"

Steve looked up at the older man, who had just stepped out of the car and was about to go inside the station. "Yeah. I'm okay."

As the customer walked away and the car door slammed shut, Steve moved his hands up and down his arms, gripping his shirt sleeves. "No, no, make it stop. You're not real. You're not here."

Steve bowed his head, his arms wrapped around his stomach, as he dropped to the pavement. He didn't see the next customer in line get out of her car and hurry over to him. He buried his face in his lap and covered his head with his arms when he felt a hand touch his back. "No. Don't."

The customer at Steve's side, a middle-aged woman, pulled her hand back. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Steve heard Mr. Coleman's voice, followed by footsteps. "What's happening?"

The woman was still next to Steve, and the man who had gone inside to pay was opening his car door. A third customer stepped out of his car and drew a little closer, curious about the scene before him and wondering if he could help.

Mr. Coleman put a hand on Steve's arm. "Steve, what's going on? Are you sick?"

The third customer paused, recognizing the name that Mr. Coleman had spoken. He went forward, seeing Steve flinch away from the hand on his arm.

Mr. Coleman spoke again. "Come on, Steve. Why don't you go inside with me?"

Steve slowly turned his head, peaking out from underneath his arms. He trembled, feeling tears in his eyes, as he looked at his boss and the woman beside him. He lifted his head slightly, shifting his gaze to the man who stood next to his car, then he saw the third customer standing just feet away.

"You okay?" Mr. Coleman asked.

Steve shook his head, a tear falling down his cheek, four pairs of eyes still watching him.

* * *

"You should've left by now," Steve said. "You're not even usually here so late in the day."

"I'm glad I stopped by when I did," Mr. Coleman said, handing Steve his paycheck.

Steve took it sighing, as he stared down at the floor of the break room. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not exactly sure what happened out there, but it sure didn't look like your fault."

"That was so damn humiliating."

"Don't sweat it too much, Steve. I'll stay a little longer and help Billy. It's only a couple hours early. Why don't you head on home?"

Steve shook his head, words coming out in a rush. "I'm okay now, sir. Really. I don't want you to think I can't handle-"

Mr. Coleman held up his hands. "Woah! Slow down. I don't think anything, except that you need a break right now."

Steve hung his head, his eyes that focused on his lap blinking rapidly. "Yeah. I probably do."

"So go home. Get some rest. Relax. It's fine."

* * *

Steve saw a note on the counter when he stepped inside his house. He picked it up, reading it:

Steve,

Just leaving this here to let you know I'm having to work late tonight. Call if you need anything at all.

Dad.

Steve put the note down, then pulled off his shoes. He went to his room and flipped on the light, before tossing his wallet onto the nightstand. As he turned away, the lists in Laura's handwriting caught his eye, and he stopped, reading them over again. He decided to take a hot shower, then he'd figure out what else to do after that.

Steve blinked back more tears, as he opened the dresser drawer that held his pants and t-shirts. He pulled some clothes out and threw them onto the bed. He slammed the drawer shut, before collapsing onto the bed himself. A cold ache washed over him, as he picked up his pillow and squeezed it, the soft material wrinkling beneath his fingers.

Steve buried his face in the pillow, hugging it to his body, as he found himself unable to stop the sob that rose in his chest.

* * *

Samuel sat on the altar at the church, pieces of light decorating the carpet, as the sun still shone through the stained glass windows. He put his hands together and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He squeezed one hand with the other and closed his eyes. "God, I don't know what I saw, but I have a feeling you let me see it for a reason. Please take care of him."

* * *

Steve still held the pillow in his lap when he reached to pull open the nightstand drawer. He grabbed the notepad he had used before and a pencil, while wiping tears from his face. He put the pencil to the paper, his head spinning, as he wrote out words to label the emotions he was currently experiencing. He hadn't done this before and wasn't certain it would help. He just knew he had to do something and ran on very little energy, between the flashback incident at the DX and the thoughts and realizations that so troubled him. Steve wrote down several words: fear, confusion, sadness, shame, frustration, anger, guilt.

* * *

Samuel still kept his hands together and his eyes closed. "God, you've brought me a long way from when I was. Please do the same for them. Both of them. Save them from that pain. I don't have to know all of what happened cause you do. If my words or prayers end up helping anyone, then maybe the hurt I've been through means something. I'll never get over losing Matthew, but I know I'll see him again someday."

Samuel paused, opening his eyes, and looked up at the cross on the stained glass windows, the sun that shone behind it making it light up, colors surrounding the symbol of faith. He dropped his hands to his lap, one more prayer falling from his lips. "And maybe you made me stay for a reason."

* * *

Steve tore the page from the notepad and crumbled it up, letting it fall to the floor. He picked up his clothes and stood, deciding to go ahead and take a shower. He switched his bedroom light off, before pausing in front of the doorway. He saw the blind on his window was down, though the slats were open.

Steve set his clothes on top of the dresser and walked over to the window. He turned the slats on the blind partially down, making shapes of light appear on the floor in front of him. He saw his shadow among the scattered light, before he turned the slats further down, no longer letting the sun in to cast its glow on his bedroom.

* * *

Samuel sat silently for several minutes, before he stood and made his way to the door of the church, the altar behind him bathed in light. Stopping in front of the door that would lead him to the parking lot, he looked up. "I'm trusting you here. I have a feeling there's something going on I can't see."

Samuel pressed his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss into the air. "I miss you, my son. Watch over my friends for me."

* * *

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his head starting to hurt, as he tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. He wandered back into his bedroom, retrieving the crumbled up piece of paper, where he'd written down his feelings. Steve's shoulders slumped, and he let his chin fall to his chest, tears blurring his vision once again. He glanced at the paper filled with ideas to help him when he felt like this, but he kept thinking, the dismal contemplation and emotions getting tangled up, confusion clouding the truth.

Steve feared the exhaustion in his mind, paving the way for doubt and fear. He wiped his eyes, his head hurting a little more. He felt his being drowning in the memories he harbored, in the shame he couldn't shake. Frustration bubbled up at the guilt he knew he shouldn't have to feel, followed by a wave of anger at Clara. She had known, must have known, what she would leave in her wake. She had played on Steve's emotions, knowing she could, confusing him so much that he didn't understand himself. He'd been too young to know the worst of her manipulation lie in how he was perplexed by his own jumble of mixed reactions to her touch.

Steve allowed his train of thought to trek down the path he hated, making his identity seem uncertain. He couldn't help asking himself what it must mean for him if Evie's touch could be a reminder of such heinous abuse, such evil. She hadn't even been there. He had. If Evie's touch could somehow be a link, a connection, what was he when the monster's hands had touched him? What did it say about him if he went back to the abuse, to a woman so evil, when his girlfriend only wanted to love him?

Steve's head pounded harder, and he turned, headed to the medicine cabinet. He opened it, reaching for and taking the lid off of the bottle of pain relief caplets. He dumped two of them into the palm of his hand, then stopped and stared at the label. He gripped the two caplets in his fist, his eyes looking inside the bottle, as thoughts still circled.

Steve mind warred with his heart, the truth of his dad's deep love for him battling with the hopeless and fear. The reassurances that he had nothing to be ashamed of tangled with the guilt and brokenness that kept linking him back to the past. He felt a tiredness plague his mind, exhausted from emotions, weakness moving in to steal any remaining strength away from him.

Steve stared at the pills inside the bottle, wondering if he could take enough of them to never wake up again. Then, he wouldn't feel this anymore. He couldn't hurt or remember. The memories would be gone, along with him and Clara.

Steve didn't hear the front door open and close, and he didn't hear Soda talking until he was right behind him.

"Steve?"

Soda's voice spoke over the dark pondering of Steve's mind, and he felt himself freeze up, his heart pounding. What was he thinking of doing? He put the two caplets in his hand back into the bottle, his best friend's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Earth to Steve," Soda said, as Steve twisted the lid back onto the bottle and quickly put it in the medicine cabinet.

"Um, nothing," Steve said, turning to Soda, carefully avoiding his gaze. "I just- I have a headache, but it starting to go away. I don't need the pills."

"Okay. But I didn't ask a question."

Steve left the bathroom and went down the hall to the kitchen, Soda right behind him. He looked down at his hands, still able to see the bottle of pills he had been holding. He blinked, his eyes going back into the hallway, toward the bathroom.

Soda's voice broke into Steve's thoughts once more. "What are you looking at?"

Steve saw Soda's eyes follow the path of his own, then shifted his gaze away from the hallway. "Soda, I think I don't need to be here right now."

* * *

"Steve, why do you keep staring at your hands like that?" Soda asked, sitting on the back porch steps.

"He's expecting some magic," TwoBit said, taking a swig of the beer he had set down on the railing.

Steve only shook his head, leaning against the post next to the steps.

"You have nothing to say to that?" TwoBit asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve looked up. "I guess not."

"Feeling all right, man?" TwoBit wondered.

Steve nodded, noticing Soda watching him. "I'm feeling fine."

TwoBit picked up his beer, raising the can up in the air. "Well, I'll see you two later."

"Later, man," Soda said, as he watched TwoBit walk past him and out the gate, going down the sidewalk. He turned and looked at Steve. "You really feeling fine?"

Steve let his eyes close. "Please don't ask, Soda. Please."

"That just means I need to ask. But I think I already know anyway."

Steve's head shot up, his eyes wide. "You know what?"

Soda blinked, startled. "Calm down. I just mean I already know you're not feeling fine."

Steve relaxed. "Oh."

"It's just when you said you didn't need to be there right now at your house, that didn't seem different than when you've told me you couldn't be alone."

Steve shrugged. "I guess it's not. That's sort of what I meant. My dad worked late tonight. I got home early. So that's how I ended up by myself."

Soda nodded. "Oh. Okay. I'm glad I came over then."

* * *

"Hey, Dad," Steve said, as he passed the bathroom. "I was just hanging out as Soda's." He kept walking. "I'm going to head to bed."

Nicholas turned off the bathroom sink, going into the hallway. "It's still pretty early, Son. You that tired?"

Steve yawned. "Yeah. I am. I'm okay though." He tossed the crumbled up piece of paper from earlier into the trash can and placed his pillow back in its place.

"All right. I'll see you in the morning. I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Thanks, Dad. For always being here."

Nicholas grinned. "You get some rest. Good night."

Steve watched his dad walk away, before he closed his bedroom door. He sat down on the floor, his back pressed against the foot of the bed.

He didn't know how to pray, or even if he should try, but the words came anyway. "God, I don't know where you've been. My dad sure seems to trust you. I don't know if I do, or if I even want to, but I don't think I can trust myself at all. Would it be too much to ask for you to help me with this? I know you're real, even if I can't understand you, and even though I don't know what you're doing up there."


	18. Chapter 18

Steve tossed his gym clothes into the locker, slamming it shut. He glanced around, noticing all but a few of the guys had already left. He only had a few minutes, so he sat down on the bench in the middle of the locker room just to relax and catch a few deep breaths.

Steve didn't know how many times he had zoned out in the gym, grateful his coach and classmates had been too caught up in their physical activity to even notice. He was glad there hadn't been any team sports arranged for today. Surely, he couldn't have focused enough to be of any help in a game.

Even as Steve made himself go through the motions in each of the fitness stations set up around the gym and found he appreciated the distraction of doing pull-ups and push-ups and lifting weights, the relief was fleeting. He had moved from one activity to the other, feeling his muscles working, his heart pounding, and sweat forming. It was a good way to burn both physical and mental energy, even though Steve still found his mind wandering back to the day before, and afterward, it all came back to him in a rush, as if the reality were just hitting him.

Steve took out his wallet and opened it, pulling out the paper that was his hand written copy of the plan he'd made with Laura. He looked at it, wondering why he hadn't just called someone yesterday or gone outside or gone for a drive. Why had he just stood there in the bathroom staring at a bottle of pills, letting his mind drift closer to the darkest place it could go?

Steve didn't know much about the acetaminophen caplets, but he did know the label said not to take more than a couple at a time. It stood to reason, that if he took many of them, it couldn't be safe. He really might not wake up. Yet, wasn't it this single bit of information that had made him think about taking them and ending the pain?

Steve shivered, cradling his head in his hand, as the paper from his wallet still set in his lap. What if I had done that? he wondered. What if I had acted on that thought? He lifted his head up, folding the paper and putting it back in his wallet, more questions playing on his mind. What if Soda hadn't come over when he did? Would I have kept falling farther down and actually taken a bunch of pills?

* * *

"Hey, Kid," Steve said, when he stepped into the Curtis' house and saw Pony.

"Oh, hey, Steve," Pony said, as he picked up his pack of cigarettes.

Steve nodded at the pack. "I thought you told Darry you were cutting back."

"I did. But cutting back ain't quitting, you know? Besides, I figured he knows there are worse things I could do, besides smoking a cigarette once in a while."

"I hate to say this, but you're right, Kid."

Pony grinned, as he picked up a lighter and walked to the back door. "Soda's in his room."

Steve made his way down the hall and knocked on Soda's open door.

"Hey, Stevie," Soda said. "You just leave work?"

Steve stayed silent, as he stepped inside, closing the door.

"I was about to stop over and see if-"

Steve didn't let Soda finish, going forward and putting his arms around his friend.

"Hey, what's this for?" Soda asked, as he returned the hug.

Steve simply shook his head against Soda's shoulder.

"You okay?"

Steve held on for another few seconds, before he pulled away, his hand not letting go of Soda's shoulder, though he couldn't look at his face. "I'm working on it."

"When Coleman was at work this morning, he asked me if you were feeling better today."

Steve sighed and rubbed his face, before dropping down onto the bed.

"Did something happen there yesterday?"

Steve waited, trying to decide how much he wanted to tell Soda about the previous day. "He saw me have a flashback."

Soda sat down next to Steve. "I'm sorry, man. What happened?"

* * *

Nicholas twisted the top off the cover on the light in the living room, then unscrewed the bulb. He set the old bulb down on the coffee table, as he picked up the new one. He screwed it into place, then put the cover back on.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" Steve asked.

Nicholas flipped the light switch, the new bulb glowing. "Just trying to get some light back in here."

"Oh. Okay. Can we talk?"

"Sure, Son."

"It's just something happened yesterday. I probably should've talked about it sooner, then maybe- Well, it doesn't matter. I want to now."

"You don't have to explain." Nicholas sat down on the couch. "Sit down with me. Get it off your chest."

Steve settled next to his dad, turning to face him. "I didn't know how much I wanted to talk about this until Soda said Mr. Coleman asked about me. I was just so embarrassed."

"What happened?"

"I was pumping gas into a car, and there were a couple of other people waiting too." Steve looked down, tracing a finger over the couch cushion underneath him. "I tried to focus. I really did. But, before I knew it, I was on the ground."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. "A flashback?"

"Yeah. Mr. Coleman was there. He came out to check on me. Then, there was this one lady who got close trying to see if I was okay. Two more guys too, just watching. I know they were just concerned, but I hated for it to be in front of people like that."

"Damn." Nicholas put an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Sounds like it was a pretty bad one."

"I remember feeling really scared and jumping when anyone touched me. I don't think it lasted very long, and I wasn't as out of it as I have been before. It just felt too real, Dad." Steve shook his head, as he met Nicholas' eyes. "Even though I was telling myself it wasn't."

"I'm sorry that happened, Son."

"I don't think I've ever felt so humiliated. Coleman was great about it, at least. I didn't tell him what that really was. I think they all just thought I must be sick or something."

"So what happened after?"

"Coleman told me to go home. I tried to tell him I could stay, but he wouldn't have it. I just don't want him to think I can't do my job."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that. He's a decent guy."

"So I came home and..." Steve looked down the hallway, his eyes going toward the bathroom. "I took a shower. Then, Soda came over later." His gaze drifted down to his hands that were growing clammy. "And we hung out at his house with TwoBit."

Nicholas grinned. "That's good."

Steve didn't speak anymore, as he felt his dad's arm pull him a little closer. He clenched his eyes shut, stopping them from looking into the hallway, from seeing that bottle of pills he was afraid he wouldn't have put down soon enough. He turned his head, pressing his face into Nicholas' shoulder, wanting to feel safe from himself.

* * *

Evie ran a brush through her hair and added a touch of blush and eyeshadow to her face, before going into the backyard, where her mom was in the garden planting flower seeds. "Hi, Mom, which ones are those?"

Irene looked up from her gloved hands that were covering the newly planted seeds with soil. "The marigolds. They're good to plant in the fall."

"Sounds pretty. Steve is picking me up in a few minutes."

"All right, honey. How are you two doing now?"

Evie sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, I guess. I think we got what we needed out in the open."

Irene pulled the gloves off her hands. "It makes sense if things feel awkward between you two right now."

"I don't want them to be, but I guess they are, and I don't know what else to do, besides just try to move on. I don't know where else to go from here."

* * *

"Come on, let's eat outside," Steve said, as he picked up the tray that held his and Evie's hamburgers and fries.

Evie picked up both of their milkshakes, following Steve out the side door to a table shaded from the sun.

Steve set the tray down and sat on the bench connected to the table. "Sorry I don't feel like more of a date."

Evie sat beside Steve and took a swallow of her milkshake. "No, it's fine. I like the Dingo. Not like we have extravagant dates or anything like that."

Steve picked up one of the burgers and unwrapped it. "That's true."

"I just want to spend time with you. That's all. It doesn't matter what we do." Evie smiled and reached for the other burger, also eating a french fry.

"I'll be right back." Steve got up and headed inside.

Evie watched Steve go inside the diner, not sure where he could be going. She picked at her food, as she looked through the window, waiting for him to come back.

* * *

Steve turned on the cold water in the bathroom, letting it run over his hands, before he splashed some on his face. Just breathe, he told himself. You love her. She loves you. Even after all this, she loves you.

Steve turned the water off and leaned his elbow on the sink, resting his forehead on his palm, as he stared at the liquid that was going down the drain. He thought back to the second he had realized the intimate moment with Evie just couldn't be. He had been uncertain early on, but found he wanted to kiss her, wanted to be there with her. It was nice, even if part of him desired to pull away from what he knew had a chance at being a trigger. The mixed feelings stirred at the touch on his skin, reminding him of his childhood confusion, even as he still wanted to be closer to Evie.

Then, that want had transformed into desperation, Evie's hands taking him back to Clara's, as the touch that felt good also became one of control. Steve knew it was only Evie's desire to kiss him and to make love to him that made her push him down onto the couch, but that expression of passion was something he couldn't handle. That was when he had frozen, memories sending him all the way into the clutches of a flashback.

* * *

Evie saw Steve walk across the diner, as she popped another fry into her mouth. She watched him come back outside and sit down across from her.

Steve sipped his milkshake. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be gone that long."

"It's all right, sweetie," Evie said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just been a long week. Hey, after we finish eating, want to drive around for a while? I don't want to go home."

* * *

Evie watched Steve turn the car radio up even more, as he drove down the strip. The music blared, so that she couldn't hear the thoughts in her own head.

Steve didn't sing along with the radio, just driving, going past houses, restaurants, and the bowling alley. He wasn't speeding, but to him, the scenery and landmarks raced by.

Evie turned the radio down enough that Steve could hear her speak. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever the road leads us," Steve said, before turning the radio back up.

* * *

"Almost done, Dar," Soda said, his head under the hood of Darry's truck.

"Thanks, little buddy," Darry said, but I hope you know changing the oil ain't going to get you permission to drive it right now."

Soda snorted, as he poured oil into the truck. "Come on. I know you ain't that much of a pushover."

Darry grinned at his brother. "Just checking."

Soda finished pouring the oil and let the hood slam shut. "I wanted something to do. That's all."

"Okay. But I've never known you to be bored."

"Only you would take me doing something nice for you and ask too many questions, Superman." Soda shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I guess I'm still just kind of worried about you."

"You can stop, Dar. I'm okay. I'm not going to do anything dumb again, I swear."

Darry followed Soda to the porch. "Good, but that's not really what I meant."

Soda pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, taking one and lighting up. "What then?"

Darry eyed the almost empty pack of cigarettes. "Damn, Sodapop! Didn't you just buy that pack yesterday?"

Soda shrugged, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Yeah. So I've been smoking a lot."

Darry sighed. "Anyway, me, you and Pony have been through a lot of loss. Our friends have too. What you told me the other day about being scared is kind of a big deal."

"I guess." Soda let out a breath of smoke. "That's one reason I've been going to Steve's so much lately."

Darry nodded. "I figured. He doing okay?"

"I think so." Soda closed his eyes. "He's doing what Laura tells him." He opened his eyes, exhaling, tears prickling at his lashes. "I'd be worried, even if no one had died before, but that makes it worse cause I know how that feels, and I know it can happen. I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's too hard because then I think of what it would be like if-" Soda found himself unable to speak, over the lump in his throat.

Darry reached for Soda's arm and gently pulled his down onto the swing next to him. "Hey, it's okay, little buddy. It sounds like Steve's doing everything he should be."

Soda stared at the cigarette he held between his fingers. "He is. But he still has thoughts about killing himself, and then all this shit keeps happening. Flashbacks and stuff like that. That can't help."

Darry put his hand on Soda's back, meeting his eyes. "Hey, that's why he has you and his dad and Laura. Hell, he has me too, if he wants."

Soda grinned slightly. "Yeah. I know. I think I still just wish so damn much that I could do something." He took another drag off the cigarette, then let it dangle from his fingers over the arm of the swing, as he lay his head back.

"Sounds like you are. You always are. Just by being Sodapop. I think Steve needs that, and maybe you help even more than you know yet."

* * *

Evie stared at the creek, then turned to look at Steve. "I didn't even know we would get here going that way."

"Me neither. I think I drove around in a circle," Steve said shifting his car into park.

"We don't usually come here this late. It's almost getting dark." Evie leaned over, laying her head on Steve's shoulder.

Steve slid an arm around Evie, resting his head on top of hers. He saw the water rippling, moving with the breeze that blew, as the sun began to set. Even late in the day, the water didn't get a chance to be still.

* * *

"Hey, Pone?" Soda said, finding his brother in the kitchen.

Pony looked up from the milk he was pouring. "Yeah?"

"Want to go to a movie with me and Darry?"

Pony smiled, setting the milk carton down. "Sure. But you're going to sit through a movie?"

"No promises, but I'll try. Last time I went, I hardly saw any of the movie."

Pony put the milk back in the refrigerator, then picked up his glass. "Too busy goofing off?"

Soda laughed. "Nah, I was with Suzie, so you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to explain further. I got it!"

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go wash this grease off my hands." Soda went into the bathroom and closed the door. He turned on the sink, warm water running over his hands. "God, I don't know how much help I can be. Even if I'm always there to listen and say the right thing, it's not like I can reach in and pull those thoughts from his head."

Soda picked up a towel, drying his hands. "Not anymore than I could've pulled him away from that bitch." He froze, towel still clutched in his hands, as he looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry, God. But ain't you about telling the truth?"

* * *

"Evie, do you believe in God?" Steve asked, as he sat on the grass by the creek.

Evie sat down next to him. "I do. Look around." She gestured to the water, the trees, and to the sky. "How could I not?"

"Yeah. I get that. So I guess my question really should be do you believe he cares about us? Does he listen?"

Evie nodded, leaning back on her elbows, her eyes on the setting sun. "I know he does. What else could he be doing up there?"

Steve watched the sun sink into the sky. "I guess I don't know. I hope you're right." The clouds were tinged with shades of pink and blue, as light passed around them. Steve looked at the still rippling water that shimmered, shining, even as the reflections in it were distorted by the unrest the breeze created.

* * *

Nicholas stacked the two of hearts onto the pile with its matching Ace, then flipped a card at the top of a column over, revealing a Queen of diamonds. He drew three cards and turned them over to see the last one, finding a Jack of spades. He was placing it below the Queen of diamonds when Steve's car pulled into the driveway.

Nicholas continued his game of solitaire, watching for Steve to come inside. He held only a few cards in his hand, and most of the columns were complete, as he looked through the window. He noticed the headlights on Steve's car were off, and it seemed to be parked, even though his son had yet to get out.

* * *

Steve thought back to the question his dad had asked him about there being anything in the house he didn't feel safe around. He laid his head on the steering wheel, gripping his car keys that he'd pulled from the ignition several minutes ago.

As much as Steve didn't want to and hadn't meant to stand and stare at pills with thoughts of trying to take his own life enveloping his mind, he was afraid he would be tempted once again. He hadn't realized the depth of the power this ideation could hold and though he had said he was afraid he could slip into hurting himself, he hadn't grasped the realness of the fact that he could get even that close. He'd believed himself to have more determination than to fall into that precarious position. Steve couldn't help asking himself if he would've been able to walk away, and painful as it was, he had to admit he couldn't answer that. He also didn't know he wouldn't go back into that bathroom in another moment of feeling too overwhelmed by emotion and pain, only able to think about how to make himself numb.

What else am I capable of considering? Steve thought. Soda had said it only takes a second to make a decision you can't take back. He'd known his friend was absolutely right even then, but again, the reality was sinking further in, and he found himself wanting to talk to his dad.

Steve saw Nicholas approach the car and knock on the window. He came around to Steve's side, opening the door. "What are you doing out here, Son?"

Steve didn't look at his dad, not sure how to approach what he needed to say. He knew he would be both relieved by sharing, yet also burdened by the full impact of speaking the words outloud. "Dad?"

"What's going on? Something happen?"

"Something almost did. I almost did something I said I wouldn't do."

* * *

Soda drew closer to Darry's truck, carrying a box of popcorn. He glanced at the movie screen, as he pressed his back against the side of the truck. He saw the window was rolled down and picked up a piece of popcorn. He leaned over and chucked it through the window, trying not to laugh outloud when Pony looked around, wondering what had touched his head. Soda picked up another piece of popcorn and also chucked it into the window, laughing outloud this time.

Pony stuck his head out the window, smiling. "I knew you couldn't sit and watch the movie." Give me some of that popcorn."

Soda pulled the popcorn away from Pony, sticking his tongue out at his little brother, as he opened the truck's door.

Darry looked over at Soda, as he slid into the seat, Pony sandwiched between them. He couldn't help but smile, as he reached around his youngest brother to squeeze his middle brother's shoulder.

Soda turned his head at the touch, giving Darry a half-smile, before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

After Darry turned back to the movie screen, Soda put the popcorn in Pony's lap. He rolled up the window and leaned his head against it, the smile gone from his face.

* * *

Steve paced back and forth up and down the driveway, after he got out of his car. He trembled, with the words he needed to speak on the tip of his tongue, his dad watching him.

"Steve, what's going on?" Nicholas asked. "You know you can tell me. Let's go inside and sit down. Try to relax."

Steve stopped pacing, nodding his head. "Okay."

Nicholas put a hand on Steve's back, as they went into the house together. He led his son down the hall toward his bedroom, noticing how he shook beneath his touch. He was closing the door when he turned and saw Steve had tucked himself into the corner. He felt his own heart begin to pound, his stomach tying in knots, realizing whatever his son needed to tell him must be serious. Nicholas pushed back his assumptions, wanting to deny what Steve's words referencing something he said he wouldn't do could mean. After learning what he had so recently about how he was feeling, the most obvious conclusion horrified Nicholas. Yet, his son was here and telling him about this, so he went to his side, thankful for that fact.

Nicholas touched the back of Steve's head, then pushed his hair off his face. "What almost happened? I'm listening."

Steve stared at his hands, turning them over, seeing they were shaking. "Please don't hate me. Cause I said I wouldn't. I didn't mean to think about it."

"I could never hate you, Son. Please don't worry." Nicholas still stroked Steve's hair. "Keep going."

Steve's voice shook, along with his hands and body. "I almost did it. There is something like you asked about, something I don't feel safe around because I don't know if I would've stopped myself."

Nicholas forced back his alarm, knowing he needed to be calm and keep Steve talking. "What did you almost do?"

Steve's chest tightened. "I was feeling so bad after work that day when Mr. Coleman made me go home. It wasn't just that. Everything just got to me so much, Dad. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you, no matter what you tell me."

"I really did take a shower. Soda came over. But before that" Steve looked up from his hands, meeting his dad's eyes. "I had a headache, probably because I cried so much. I was about to take some medicine. Not the aspirin, but the other.

Nicholas felt the urge to hold his son, to put his arms around him and forget the reality that was forming in Steve's words existed. But he refrained, reaching for his hand instead.

"I stood there and stared at that bottle of pills." Steve looked down at the hand that held his, then squeezed it, as tears poured from his eyes. "I wondered if I could take a bunch of them and never wake up, if I couldn't make the pain go away. But I didn't do it. I swear I didn't."

Nicholas nodded, now holding onto Steve's hand with both of his own. "So what did you do?"

"I was still standing there, holding that bottle and thinking about it when Soda came in. I didn't hear him at first, but then he was right behind me. I didn't even take any for the headache. When he came in the bathroom, I put them back in the cabinet."

Nicholas rested his head against Steve's shoulder, not letting go of his hand. "Jesus. It's okay, Son. What did you do after that?"

"I didn't tell Soda exactly why, but I told him I couldn't be here right now. So we went to his house. I just don't know if I might have-" Steve covered his eyes with his free hand. "I don't know if I would've stopped myself if Soda hadn't come in. I'm not sure I wouldn't have taken those pills. All I could think about was making it stop, and I know I couldn't remember and couldn't hurt or feel so confused or sad if-" He felt his head being guided to Nicholas' chest, his dad's arms cradling him.

Nicholas mouth a silent prayer of thanks, as he held onto Steve. He rested his chin on top of his son's head, feeling his tears soaking into the front of his shirt. His chest clenched at the sound of Steve's cries, a tear making its way down his cheek. "Shh. No matter what, the most important thing is you didn't do it. You didn't do anything to hurt yourself. You're here, and you're telling me about this."

Steve pressed his face into Nicholas' chest, holding onto his dad for the safety he knew existed in the embrace, for the love he needed to feel.

Nicholas had so much he wanted to say, but feared making Steve feel worse with his own crashing wave of emotion brought on by the mere thought of the grief he would go through if his son even attempted to take his own life. He settled for reminding him how much he was loved. "And no matter what, I still love you. No matter what you do or think, you can't change that. Even when you feel so bad, you can't think about anything but making that pain go away, nothing changes. I love you, and I need you here with me, Son. Please know that."

Please know I would die if I lost you, Nicholas added silently to himself. Please stay with me.

A/N It was actually around this time that it was discovered how dangerous acetaminophen (or Tylenol) could be in large doses


	19. Chapter 19

Soda watched Steve trace his finger over the letters on Rose's grave marker. "I didn't know you were still coming here."

Steve laid his hand on the smooth stone, kneeling on the ground. "I haven't been. Just felt like it, I guess. I know you don't want to hang out here, but I didn't want to come by myself."

"It's fine. You know I don't mind." Soda looked at the fountain not far from them. "Hey, I'm going to sit over there, and give you a minute. Just come get me when you're ready to go."

Steve hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, his eyes on the grass that surrounded him. "Okay."

* * *

"Mom, I hope you know that when I saw your writing in the Bible that day, I wasn't upset because of that," Steve said, still in front of Rose's grave marker.

He pulled his knees out from under him, sitting cross-legged on the ground where his mom had been buried years ago. "I miss you. Since you're up there, talk to God for me. The way you always were, I know he would never not listen to you. Besides, you're right there. It's impossible for him not to hear, right?"

Steve felt a few tears fall out of his eyes. "You ought to see Dad and me. I know, not too long ago, I could've never told him something like I did last night. It still wasn't easy, but I knew he'd want to know and want to listen, even though it hurts him too."

Steve laid his hand on the marker one more time. "Mom, I'm sorry about how I've been feeling. Sorry for what I came too close to doing the other day. I don't know how much you can see up there, but it must have hurt you if you saw. I hope you didn't."

* * *

Soda was on the edge of the fountain when Steve's reflection appeared next to his own. He could see the solemn expression on his best friend's face and the red of his eyes, both so clear despite the shimmer the sun created on the water.

Steve didn't spare his reflection a glance. "I think I'm ready to get out of here."

Soda stayed where he was. "All right, man. You okay?"

Steve sighed, staring in the direction of Rose's grave. "Soda, do you think God cares? Like about me or you and how we feel? Do you believe he listens?"

Soda grinned, touching Steve's arm. "Isn't that what he's there for? To hear prayers and stuff like that?"

"I hope so cause I need him to hear me." Steve looked up at Soda. "I've been trying to talk to him. I mean, I'm not like my dad, and I'm not sure, but I would like to think it matters. I don't understand a lot of things, but I'm trying to talk to him anyway."

Soda squeezed Steve's arm, glancing back at their reflections. "Well, I've been talking to God for you. Maybe if we both keep doing it, that'll mean something. I'll tell him you really need him to listen."

* * *

The voices surrounded Nicholas, caught up in the playing of the piano, in the worship and praise of God. The lyrics of hymns flowed up to heaven. He closed the hymnal he held, setting it down in the pew behind him, before raising his hands and singing along with the rest of the congregation. Even as he sang, his mind drifted back to the night before and Steve telling him how he had come close to acting on the suicidal thoughts he had in that moment of distress.

Nicholas felt his throat tighten, even as he kept his hands lifted. He had thanked God over and over that his son hadn't actually attempted to overdose, knowing the way the scenario could have ended up that day.

After Steve had gone to bed the night before, leaving Nicholas alone to grapple with what he'd just heard, he had gone into the bathroom, pulling all the bottles of medication from the cabinet. Maybe he couldn't make Steve immune to these impulses, but he could get rid of the specific temptation he battled.

Nicholas closed his eyes, letting his hands fall to his sides, as he prayed in a whisper. "God I know I've said this, but help me help my son. Please keep him from even almost hurting himself. I know you were there in that moment. You must've been. Sodapop may not know it yet, but he was supposed to show up exactly when he did."

Nicholas looked around the sanctuary, most of the congregation in front of him. He saw Samuel sitting on the piano bench and was seized by the thought of his friend's terrible grief. He could still hear the instrument playing, as Samuel's fingers moved over the keys. But, in his mind's eye, Nicholas pictured a little boy next to a pool, then his own son staring at the pills. He could see the little boy fall into the water, fighting for air, as he drowned, then there was Steve swallowing a handful of pills.

Nicholas felt the walls of the church closing in on him, an image of Matthew with Samuel at his side, desperate to save him, flashing into his mind. Then, there he was next to his own unconscious son, who he still believed he had failed time and time again.

Nicholas knew Samuel had struggled with trying to forgive himself for not stopping Matthew's accident, for not knowing what was happening in time to stop it. He had battled that in the turmoil of shock and grief, so he knew the value of reminding him to treasure his son, who was still here with him. As much as Nicholas wasn't sure exactly how to forgive himself now, he knew he never would if-

Nicholas turned and bolted out the side door of the sanctuary.

* * *

Samuel's fingers glided over the piano keys, nearly stumbling on a note of music when he saw Nicholas rush out the side door. He forced himself to keep playing, to keep singing along, even though he kept remembering what he had seen the other day. He'd felt such a pull to pray after that, one that made him wonder exactly why. Was there something that connected him to Steve? Samuel really knew so little about what the boy and his dad had been through, but on the surface, it sounded like it bore little resemblance to his own experiences.

Samuel played the last chorus, before closing the lid on the piano keys, as the congregation sat down. He stood and made his way to the third row of pews, sitting next to Vivian. As Pastor David took the podium, beginning to speak, Samuel squeezed his wife's hand, then turned to see the door Nicholas had left through. There was no sign of his friend coming back inside.

* * *

Nicholas stood with his hands on his knees, his back to the brick building and his shadow cast on the concrete beneath his feet, as he reminded himself Steve was alive. He hadn't hurt himself. He hadn't done it. Nicholas couldn't go on instilling fear into his own heart by imagining the worst.

He stood up straighter, before sliding down to sit on the concrete sidewalk. You have to forgive yourself, he thought. You can't be there the way you want to if you're still so intent on blaming yourself. Nicholas knew that self-blame was taking energy he needed to listen to Steve and to cope himself with how his son was feeling. That same blame only served to fuel the fear of losing him. The fear would be there, no matter what, especially knowing how close Steve had been to acting on those feelings, but if he kept tearing himself up inside with guilt, it would grow and drive him to drinking again. No, he had to pull the focus off his internal battle of unforgiveness and be there for Steve. He knew his son was also scared and really needed him.

Samuel was right. Nicholas needed to cancel the debt, decide he wouldn't stay angry at himself, and let go of the guilt in knowing he hadn't been able to stop Clara's abuse and hadn't known how to handle everything afterward. Steve was also right. She was the one to blame. Yet, he couldn't focus on that either. It would only lead down an even worse path of hatred, that still couldn't heal any of Steve's pain or his own.

Nicholas thought of all Clara had taken from his son. She'd plagued his childhood with memories of abuse. She had destroyed his innocence, taking his sense of peace. She stole his confidence and security. She took a little boy's happiness, replacing it with unspeakable hurt and fear. Then, somehow, she'd found herself unable to live anymore. Nicholas knew Clara had taken too much from Steve. The pain of what she did wasn't going to take his life too. He would see to that.

"We scare you away?"

Nicholas turned, seeing Samuel next to him. "How do you always know when to show up?"

"Well, I wasn't going to, but when you didn't come back in after a while, I thought I would check on you."

"I just had to have some air. I'm really worried right now, and it got to me. I felt like my head was spinning in there." Nicholas stood up. "I think I'm okay now though. Sorry about that. You really didn't have to come out here in the middle of the service."

"It's fine. Actually, I wanted to tell you something anyway. I wasn't going to, but after this, I think maybe I should." Samuel paused, glancing behind him. "Hey, instead of standing out here, why don't we go inside?" He nodded to a door just yards away. "That door right there goes into a little office room."

"You don't want to go back to the service?"

"I think this is more important."

* * *

Steve and Soda both sat staring at the TV. Steve had curled up, his elbow on the arm of the couch, cheek resting against his palm, while Soda had his feet propped up on the coffee table.

Steve started to stand. "Hey, I think I'm going to go take a nap. I didn't sleep so great last night."

"All right, man," Soda said, turning his eyes from the screen to Steve, who was now on his feet.

"You can stay here or do whatever. Doesn't matter to me. I just need a little shut-eye."

Soda grinned. "I think I'll hog your couch for a while."

Steve nodded, beginning to walk away, but looked back one more time. "I figured."

* * *

"So what did you want to tell me that's more important than going back in the church?" Nicholas asked, sitting in the rolling chair to the side of a small desk that held a typewriter.

Samuel pulled his own chair over, so he was right in front of Nicholas, a shelf of books next to him. "You told me Steve works at a DX, right?"

Nicholas nodded, as he set his folded hands in his lap. "Yeah, but what's that have to do with anything?"

"I don't go there often, but I did just the other day. There was a boy pumping gas, and I was in line. I didn't see much, just when he dropped onto the ground. He almost looked like he was trying to hide from something. Then, another guy who works there came out and tried to talk to him. That's when I heard his name."

Nicholas sighed. "Yeah. Steve didn't tell me about it right away, but it _is_ kind of like he's trying to hide from something. Or someone, rather. So you were one of the people out there, huh?"

"Yes. He just seemed so scared. He pulled away any time someone tried to touch him. I didn't, after seeing how he reacted to them, but I wanted to help. Especially when I figured out he had to be your son. I just didn't know how. So I stayed back. The other DX guy seemed to get him to talk to him at least."

"That was his boss. As much as Steve told me he hates that happened in front of people, I'm glad it wasn't just strangers."

"Just before I left, I saw the boss guy help him up off the ground, and they went inside. I remember thinking he looked a little calmer."

"What you saw was a trauma effect he's dealt with a lot. Like he's going through the abuse he experienced over again. It's like memories becoming real, pulling him back to what happened. It's called a flashback."

"Poor kid." Samuel shook his head. "Nobody should have to deal with that. But what I really want to tell you is about after that."

"Oh?"

"I just felt something and knew I needed to pray for him, like there must be a reason I saw him when I did, even though I had no idea what was happening at the gas station. So I came here to the church, and I prayed for a while. For him and for you. I asked God to help both of you and to take care of Steve."

Nicholas put his hand over his heart, as he looked straight at his friend. "I know exactly why you had that feeling, Samuel. Thank you. Because he did take care of him."

Samuel leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair, tilting his head toward the shelf of books. "I couldn't even explain it if I tried. I just had to pray. It seemed urgent, like there was something going on that I couldn't see."

"There was." Nicholas tried to keep his voice from shaking. "Steve just told me about it last night. Now, more than ever, I know I have to forgive myself for everything I did and didn't do. And for what I didn't know."

"You can. Believe me."

"But how? Where do I start? This feeling has been there for so long, I don't know how to live without it. It's like it's a part of me."

* * *

Steve lie on his still-made bed, his eyes closed, as he turned over and shoved both of his hands underneath the pillow.

_Steve stood in the bathroom, the bottle of pills in his hand again. He grabbed a handful._

His hands gripped the cool material of the pillow case. "No, no, don't!"

He_ saw Clara in front of him, as he heard her speak. "If we're both gone, it's really over. I can't haunt you anymore."_

Steve buried his face in the pillow, as he turned onto his stomach. "No, I want to live. Please don't do it!"

_Clara seized Steve's wrist, pushing the hand that still held the pills toward his face. He backed away, the bottle dropping to the floor, as he shook his head, fighting Clara's grip on his wrist._

Steve felt a hand on his back. "No, I don't want to do it. I don't want to die! Don't make me!"

He_ had his back against the wall, Clara pushing the handful of pills closer to his mouth. He felt one touch his lips, and she didn't loosen her grip._

_ Clara smiled. "Come on, you'll feel better. Our connection will be gone. You'll never hurt again. Don't bother praying. God doesn't care about what happens to you."_

"Come on, man. Wake up. You're dreaming."

Steve forced his eyes open, barely seeing Soda, before he pulled himself out of the bed and disappeared down the hallway. He went into the bathroom and threw open the medicine cabinet, relief flooding him when he saw it was empty. "It was just a dream. She's not here. It didn't happen. You didn't do it."

Soda stood, looking between Steve and the open cabinet. "Didn't do what?"

Steve slammed the medicine cabinet closed, his heart hammering within his chest. "Nothing. It was just a dream."

* * *

"So, what now?" Nicholas asked. "How do I do this? I don't know how to let go. I don't know how to stop being angry at myself."

Samuel sat down on the edge of his chair, leaning toward Nicholas. "You need to accept that you're human. You're not perfect, and you're not supposed to be. From what you've told me and what I've seen in you, I know you love your son, and you'd do anything to protect him, anything to help him."

Nicholas closed his eyes for a few seconds, then could hear his own voice trembling. "I do love him. That's why I would keep carrying this for him, but I can't, and it's not helping him. I can't take the pain from him, no matter what I do!"

"That's one reason you have to forgive yourself. Look, I understand. I know what it is to think you can make something happen if you blame yourself enough, but torturing yourself will not make Steve hurt less. Not any more than me doing the same thing could bring Matthew back. It just made me hurt even worse, and he was just a little kid, but I know he loved me too. He wouldn't want that. From everything you've told me, I know Steve loves you, and he doesn't want you holding onto all of this."

One tear slid down Nicholas' cheek, as he avoided Samuel's eyes. "But my son was sexually abused by a woman I brought into our home."

* * *

Soda followed Steve, who had pushed past him and gone back to his bedroom. "Nothing, huh?"

"Right." Steve picked up the lighter that lay on his dresser, then left the room once more.

"It didn't sound like nothing when you were sleeping." Soda was right behind Steve as he paced around the living room and the kitchen. "What are you looking for?"

Steve's eyes looked everywhere, but he could see nothing, except Clara's face right in front of his own, as he voice taunted him. "My cigarettes."

Soda pointed to the counter next to the stove. "They're right there. You look like you need to sit down. You're shaking like crazy."

Steve looked down at his hands, seeing he was indeed shaking, the image of the pills he'd held in the dream still flashing through his mind.

"You were looking at your hands like that the other day too. I remember asking you about it at my house."

Steve lifted his head, turning his eyes to Soda. "Like what?" He picked up his cigarettes, snatching them from the counter, the force reminding him of how he had tried to pull his wrist free from Clara's grip, the pills so close to his mouth.

"Like you're scared of them or something. I'm not sure. And what's up with the medicine cabinet?"

Steve walked out to the front porch, realizing Soda would be right behind him. "Nothing. What about it?"

"When I came in the other day, before we went to my house, you were standing in that same spot in the bathroom, then you acted all nervous, like you're doing now. I remember you put some pills back in that cabinet real fast. You were so jumpy."

Steve lit a cigarette, trying to keep his hands steady. "I told you it's nothing. I freak out all the time. You've seen it before."

* * *

Samuel rested a hand on Nicholas' shoulder and waited a moment, seeing more tears fall from his friend's eyes. "Hey, it's okay. So tell me. Did you know she would hurt him?"

Nicholas still didn't look up. "Of course not. If I had..." He covered his eyes with his hand.

"I know. I already knew the answer to that. You couldn't know. If you did, it sure couldn't have happened. So did you find out what was going on when she was still in your lives?"

"I did. Not soon enough. But I did."

Samuel squeezed Nicholas' shoulder. "So what did you do then?"

"I threw her out of my house."

"So you did what you had to do to protect your son."

Nicholas lifted his head, meeting Samuel's eyes. "But after that, I didn't do anything right in handling all of it. I screwed up over and over again. I hurt him even more."

"Because you're human, Nicholas. Did you mean to hurt him? Did you know you were?"

Nicholas stood up, turning and putting his hands flat on the desk, leaning on it, as he stared at the keys on the typewriter. "Of course I didn't know."

Samuel rolled his chair closer to where Nicholas was standing. "You see what I'm telling you? You did the best you could with what you knew at the time. That's one thing you have to accept."

"But you don't get it. I drank. A lot. Instead of talking about what happened, I shoved it away. I didn't let Steve talk about it at all, even though he wanted to. He even tried."

"Why?"

Nicholas turned his head to see Samuel. "Why what?"

"All of it. Why did you drink?"

Nicholas dropped back into his chair. "Because it numbed me. I thought it made me feel better."

"Trust me when I say you're not the only one to do that. I understand even better than you might think."

"You drank?"

"I did. It wasn't often or for long, but..." Samuel swallowed, closing his eyes. "It numbed me too. A little too much." He opened his eyes, focusing on Nicholas again. "So why didn't you let him talk about it?"

"Part of me thought that was better for him. For both of us, really. I thought we should try to forget. I wanted Steve to just be a kid, you know? Another part of me was just selfish and didn't want to face my own guilt or the fact that he was abused. I could see the effect everything had on him, then, after a while, he seemed to be okay again."

"Again, you're human. You're not perfect. You have to accept that you didn't know what kind of person this woman was. And you have to accept that you didn't know the best way to handle knowing your son was abused in such a terrible way."

"I believe what you're telling me, but it's so hard to imagine letting all of this go when my son is in enough pain that he came close to physically hurting himself because he's struggling with suicidal feelings. That's what happened the day you saw him. That has to be why you needed to pray."

Samuel took a deep breath, letting his hand rest on Nicholas' shoulder once more, tears in his own eyes. "If he's hurting that much, then it's even more important for you to start forgiving yourself because he needs you now more than ever."

Nicholas nodded, a fresh batch of tears falling down his cheeks. "I know."

"You have to accept that you can't take Steve's pain by continuing to blame yourself. That only makes you hurt more. You have to accept that you did the best you could, even though you made mistakes. And you have to accept that there was no way you could have known she would abuse him. Grant yourself some mercy and grace because God already has. So has your son."

"Okay. I'm going to try."

Samuel covered both of Nicholas' hands with his own. "I'm going to pray now. While I do, I want you to tell God you're ready to forgive yourself. You're canceling this debt."

* * *

Steve puffed on his second cigarette, looking at the road. "I thought my dad would be home by now."

Soda still stood next to him, leaning on the porch railing, as Steve breathed out smoke. "I just want to help, you know. It ain't ever good when you keep stuff to yourself. I just don't want you to do that. That's all."

Steve didn't look at his friend, as he kept smoking the cigarette. "I thought we were done with this. If you want to help right now, then back off, Sodapop."

"And you only ever say things like that when you're trying not to talk about something that you should."

Steve threw his cigarette down and stomped on it, before turning to Soda, his voice rising. "It was just a dream, okay? So I haven't told you what it was about. But that doesn't mean I haven't told anyone! So back off!"

Soda's face fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm just worried, and I want to help. You don't have to yell at me."

"Apparently, I do! Cause you're not hearing me!"

"Buddy, I-"

"Damn it, Soda!" Steve turned away from his friend, pacing to the other end of the porch.

Soda held up his hands. "Okay. You don't have to tell me. Sorry. It just scares me when you act weird, and the things you were saying in your sleep didn't sound good. I swear I don't want to make you mad at me. I just want to help."

Steve looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath at Soda's words. "If you say anything else about wanting to help, I swear to God..."

"What's wrong with saying that? It's true."

Steve kept his back to Soda, his voice shaking, as it got louder. "You did help. So stop saying that. Cause you did!"

Soda moved forward, standing right behind Steve, a hand on his shoulder. "You've told me before that I helped you, but that doesn't mean I won't still try to help more now. Will you promise me something?"

Steve turned to face Soda. "What?"

"You won't tell me what was in that dream or what's going on with anything else I just mentioned. I know it's not nothing, or you wouldn't be yelling at me or getting mad."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a trembling sigh escaping. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. But it's just that I'm not ready. What do you want me to promise?"

"Just that you'll tell somebody about it. That's all."

Steve nodded and squeezed Soda's shoulder. "I promise, buddy. I'm not keeping it all inside, okay?"

"I just don't want you to end up hurting yourself or something cause you're trying to deal alone."

"I know, Soda. I know that won't work too, especially now." Steve saw Nicholas' car and shifted his gaze, watching it pull into the driveway. "Believe me."


	20. Chapter 20

**"**I had the worst nightmare out of all of them yesterday," Steve said, his heart rate speeding up just at the remembrance.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Laura asked.

"Yeah, but before I do, you need to know something else. I didn't do it, but I wanted to. Or thought I wanted to." Steve closed his eyes, the suffocating path his mind had traveled coming back to him. "I might have if Soda hadn't shown up when he did."

"What do you mean, Steve? What didn't you do?"

Steve couldn't help but notice the softness of Laura's voice, her caring nature pouring off of her in waves, even though she could keep the distance that helped her maintain her objectivity. I need that, he thought. Because I couldn't have said everything I was thinking to my dad. "I had a flashback at work. But it wasn't just that. I guess it didn't help. So I was upset about that happening and thinking about Evie. Well, not really about Evie, but about how I've thought of the abuse and of Clara when I'm with her. I've told you how confused I was when I was a kid cause of how it felt sometimes. I'm confused now too."

"You can keep going. I'm hearing you. What is it you believe I need to know?"

"It's not what I was thinking at first, but I ended up getting a headache. I was going to take some medicine for it. But then" Steve hesitated, beginning to feel like he was spinning, as he locked eyes with Laura.

"Are you okay?"

Steve blinked several times. "Yeah, it's just hard to think about this. It makes me feel funny all over again. But I didn't even take the medicine at all. I stood there with two of the pills in my hand, then was thinking even more. I got to wondering if I could" Steve pulled his gaze away from Laura's face, fear taking hold and wanting to choke him, even as her eyes held only warmth. "take a bunch of them and, you know, not wake up again. Not feel any of it anymore. Not remember Clara or anything. Not hurt."

"So what happened next?"

"I kept standing there." Steve rubbed his hands together, noticing they were clammy, though a chill ran down his spine. "And I just stared at the bottle, thinking about doing that.

"But you didn't."

"No. One minute, it was like all I could think about was making it stop, making the pain go away." Steve tried to take a deep breath. "Then, the next, Soda was right behind me, and I put the pills away."

"Were you having suicidal thoughts before you decided to take medicine for the headache?"

Steve nodded. "I tried. I swear I did. But it was too much. I know I should've called someone." He felt his heartbeat quicken. "But I was just feeling so bad. I know what happened when I was a kid isn't supposed to say anything about who I am, but how can it not when she was such a monster and-"

Laura saw Steve lean forward and put a hand on his chest. "Can you breathe okay?"

Steve shook his head that now lay in his lap. "Feels like I can't get enough air or something." He took several rapid breaths. "Dizzy too."

Laura didn't leave her chair, but scooted closer to see Steve. "Try to breathe slowly."

Steve's eyes filled with tears. "I can't. I feel weird." He put a hand on his head, as he sat up.

"Are you feeling lightheaded?"

Steve nodded and started to stand, but fell back in his chair when the room around him started to blur. He breathed quickly, covering his eyes. "Can you-" He held his breath for a second, then exhaled. "Can you get my dad?"

Laura nodded, leaving the door open, as she went into the hallway.

Steve laid his head down on his arm, still covering his eyes, his heart pounding, as he attempted to breathe more evenly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Laura back in her chair and Nicholas kneeling next to him. "I don't feel good, Dad."

"Sounds like you're just panicky, Son. It's okay," Nicholas said. "You've been through it before. Just keep breathing. It'll pass."

"But it keeps getting worse," Steve said, feeling another wave of dizziness, Nicholas' face blurring. "I can't see right either."

Nicholas rubbed Steve's back. "It's okay."

Steve lifted his head slightly. "No. I can't get enough air." He took in a sharp breath. "I'm trying, but-" He put his head back down, starting to sob.

Laura stood up, getting closer to Steve. "Steve, I want you to hold your breath for a few seconds, then breathe through your nose. It sounds like you're hyperventilating."

Steve kept crying, his breathing becoming faster.

Nicholas rose up on his knees, leaning closer to his son. "Just try it." He wrapped an arm around his middle. "Come on, I'm here."

"I'm going to get you some water too," Laura said, going out the door.

Steve shifted in his chair, dropping his head onto Nicholas' shoulder, as he held his breath.

"Just for a few seconds, Son," Nicholas said. "Like she told you. You're trying too hard to breathe."

Steve closed his mouth, exhaling through his nose.

Laura returned, holding a glass of water. She handed it to Steve. "Just sip it."

Steve kept himself close to Nicholas, as he held the glass, his fingers tingling. He put it to his lips, tears still making their way down his face.

Nicholas put a hand on the glass when he saw it start to slip. "I got it. You just keep breathing like you are."

Laura sat down on Steve's other side. "That's better. Your dad's right. It'll pass."

Steve felt his breathing slow down, as he pulled away from the glass, putting his head back on Nicholas' shoulder. "Felt like I was going to pass out."

Nicholas handed the glass back to Laura, giving Steve a squeeze. "Just keep breathing slow."

"I think you were upset and anxious and started to breathe too fast," Laura added. "But you're going to be okay."

* * *

Soda was smoking a cigarette in the backyard, still wearing his DX uniform, when he saw Suzie coming toward the gate. "Hey!"

Suzie opened the gate and went up to him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Hi, I haven't seen you in days."

Soda tossed his cigarette away, shooting her a grin. "I've been around."

"I thought you'd want to go out again."

"I've just been real busy. I missed you though." Soda pushed Suzie's hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just came by to see you. I'm not mad or anything. But can we go out this weekend?"

Soda sighed. "I kind of can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I got in some trouble with my brother. But it's no big deal."

Suzie touched Soda's arm, then reached for his hand. "Well, let me know when he lets you off the hook. I'll still be around."

"Sure."

"We can even double with Steve and Evie again, if they want to."

"Maybe." Soda leaned closer to Suzie, squeezing her hand.

"Suzie tilted her head up, her lips drawing nearer to Soda's. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Soda closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. He deepened the kiss, feeling himself relax, as he let his eyes drift shut.

Suzie brought her hands up to Soda's shoulders, before putting her arms around his neck.

Soda put his hands on each side of Suzie's face, stroking her cheek, as he broke the kiss. He looked straight into her eyes. "If we don't stop now, I know I'll lose myself in you."

* * *

"Do you feel a little better now, Steve?" Laura asked, lifting herself up off the floor.

"Yeah, I think so," Steve said.

"Are you okay with me asking you a few questions?" Laura sat back down in her chair. "I need to after what you just told me."

Nicholas started to stand. "I'll go back in the waiting room, Son."

Steve shook his head, as he grabbed his dad's arm. "No! Please stay." He looked at Laura. "Can he stay?"

Laura nodded. "Of course he can. If you want him to." She turned to Nicholas. "I'll get you a chair."

* * *

"And this is my little brother, Ponyboy," Soda said, when Pony opened the back door, stepping outside. "Pony, this is Suzie."

Pony waved. "Hi."

"Hi, Ponyboy," Suzie said. "Soda has told me all about you and Darry." She turned to Soda. "I wish I could stay a little longer, but I have some homework to do. I really have to go."

"Okay." Soda said. "I'll see you later."

Suzie looked at Pony. "Nice to meet you, Ponyboy." She kissed Soda's cheek. "Call me soon."

Soda watched Suzie walk away, then go through the gate. "She's real pretty, ain't she?"

Pony shrugged. "I guess so."

"Come on. You can say you think so. Don't be so shy."

"All right. She is." Pony sat down on the porch steps. "You sure like her, huh?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You're still staring at the gate like she's standing over there." Pony grinned. "And you have this look in your eyes."

Soda shifted his gaze to Pony, sitting down next to him. "I do?"

"Yeah, you look like you could just float away or something."

* * *

"One reason I told my dad is cause I was afraid I would do that again, afraid I would actually take them," Steve said, feeling Nicholas squeeze his arm. "I don't want to, I swear. But for that second, I guess I did want to. It was this urge, like it was all closing in on me."

"I know that's distressing, Steve," Laura said. "So were you less afraid after you told your dad what happened?"

"Yeah. I guess cause I knew he'd do something with all the pills." Steve looked at Nicholas, then back at Laura. "And it felt better to not be hiding it and to know he wasn't mad at me."

"Oh, Son," Nicholas said. "I couldn't be further from it."

"I swear I'm not planning to kill myself," Steve said. "But I know why you had to ask again. And I get why you had to ask if I had pills or anything else around too."

"Okay," Laura said. "So if you're alone and feel this much of an impulse again, what will you do?"

"Call somebody, I think. Cause what I tried that day, it just didn't help. Then, I kind of gave up and let my mind go wherever. I remember feeling so exhausted and like I could get lost in those thoughts. They were pulling me in and kept getting stronger."

"Was the nightmare you mentioned earlier related to these thoughts?" Laura asked.

Steve glanced at his dad again, before speaking. "Yeah. It was about Clara though, and she-" He stopped, taking a long breath, feeling Nicholas' hand on his arm. "She was there telling me to do it, trying to make me take the pills. She said I would feel better and that it would be over because we would both be gone."

* * *

Soda raised an eyebrow from his place on the floor across from Steve. "Hyper what?"

"I don't know," Steve said, shaking his head, as he collected the cards from their last game. "Something about breathing too fast. I just know I felt like I was about to pass out."

"Oh. But you didn't, right?"

"No. Probably would have if Laura hadn't been there telling me what to do. It was just what we were talking about got too hard. I started feeling like I couldn't get enough air. I felt real weird too."

"Sounds like your panic attacks." Soda reached for the deck of cards Steve had put between them.

"Some of it was like that, but I don't know. This seemed worse because I couldn't calm down. I told Laura to get my dad for me, so she did."

"He came with you again?"

"Yeah. I asked him to. Anyway, even after I felt better, I told him to stay. I kind of liked having him in there."

Soda grinned. "I think that's good."

Steve watched Soda start shuffling the cards. "You know something? I think you've been here lately more than I've been at your house."

Soda shrugged, not looking up from the deck. "Yeah."

"It ain't ever been like that before."

Soda still didn't look up. "No, I guess not." He paused and started to open his mouth, then shook his head.

"It was just a thought, Soda."

Soda nodded, holding the deck of cards, his eyes not leaving it. "I know."

"It's not a bad thing. Trust me."

* * *

Nicholas rubbed shaving cream onto his face, his reflection staring back at him, as he thought of his last conversation with Samuel. He felt like he had taken a big step, both in choosing to make the decision to start forgiving himself and in admitting all that truth to his friend. He had never laid the past and all of his mistakes out for anyone besides Steve before. There was a sense of release, a sort of freedom in letting someone else listen to him talk about the situation with Clara and the aftermath.

As Nicholas let the razor glide over his face, he remembered how he had been afraid of the way Samuel would react to hearing the terrible mistakes he made. Yet, the preacher's calmness had been a comfort to him, and there was no judgment, even though Samuel had lost his little boy. In Nicholas' mind, this had made him worried Samuel would be horrified when he heard that he had brought an abuser into his own son's life, had let him get hurt so terribly.

As much as their talk, Samuel's words of comfort and guidance, and the prayer had helped to lift the burden, Nicholas realized his feelings hadn't changed instantly. Just as his friend had said, this was a process. He wouldn't suddenly feel forgiven, but he had hope that the decision to stop blaming himself and stop thinking he could help Steve by carrying the burden of pain would eventually lead to more breakthroughs.

* * *

Steve looked up at the night sky, before he glanced at the paper again, his own handwriting telling him some things he could do to distract himself. He folded it across the middle, still keeping it in his lap. He lifted his feet onto the porch swing and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Just be," he told himself. "Don't think about anything, except what's right here." Steve rested his forehead on his knees. "This feeling will pass."

* * *

Nicholas rinsed his face with warm water and patted it dry with a towel, thinking of how Samuel had prayed for Steve. He was thankful his friend had felt that pull and responded to it. Maybe that was God's voice, his whisper. Maybe, in the moment Steve was standing there caught up in the thought of attempting to die, God was behind the scenes and quietly moving to make sure he didn't act on the impulsive feelings causing him to suffer. Maybe Samuel's prayers had been as perfectly timed as Sodapop's arrival, both part of the silent intervention that led Steve to put the bottle of pills down, keeping him safe.

* * *

Steve felt a coolness touch his face and turned toward it, as if there were a savior in the wind, one that could sweep the pain of the past away. If only the breeze could blow and cast the hurt out, making it go so far that it disappeared, creating the illusion that these feelings had never existed.

* * *

Nicholas set the Bible in his lap, opening it to the New Testament. He flipped through the pages, deciding to stop in the book of 1 Peter. He skimmed the first chapter and most of the second, his eyes going to the 24th and last verse:

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die and live to righteousness. By his wounds, you have been healed."

Nicholas looked at the margin, noticing a verse chapter and number in Rose's curvy cursive: Isaiah 53:4-5.

* * *

Steve tightened his arms around his legs, hugging them closer to his chest. "What's in my head right now, I swear I don't want to do it, God. But I don't want my life to keep being like this either." He let his eyes rest on the many stars in the sky that blinked back at him "I don't know if you have feelings or pain or stuff like that, but it can really hurt."

* * *

Nicholas flipped the pages back to the Old Testament, searching for Isaiah. Finding it, he turned to chapter 53, skipping down to the fourth verse:

"Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted."

* * *

The wind blew once more, as Steve rested his cheek on his knee. "I'm trying to be strong, but I'm so tired. I hope you really are listening. I hope you do care what happens to me."

* * *

Nicholas moved down to the fifth verse of Isaiah 53:

"But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes, we are healed."

* * *

Steve turned his head when he heard the door open, the light from inside the house mingling with the darkness outside for a moment.

Nicholas stepped onto the porch, the door closing behind him. "You just sitting out here, Son?"

Steve looked down at his lap, the paper he'd been reading still there. He shook his head.

Nicholas sat down next to Steve. "You didn't have to be alone, you know."

Steve nodded, his mind going back to the conversation with his dad about how he had come too close to acting on a suicidal impulse, then to earlier that day in Laura's office. "Thank you for staying today, Dad."

"Of course. I wouldn't leave after you asked me to stay."

"That's never happened when I was talking to Laura before. I guess some stuff is even harder to talk about now. It was kind of scary."

"Yeah, I guess it would be. Did it help you to come be out here?"

"I guess so. I thought at least if I'm just sitting outside like this, nothing can happen." Steve still hugged his legs to his chest, resting his chin on top of his knees. "I can't, you know, do anything."

Nicholas put his hand on Steve's back. "This might be a hard question, but do you know at all what makes you end up feeling this bad? Is there a particular thing bothering you right now?"

"I don't always know, but yeah, there is. I thought I wasn't so ashamed anymore, but it's like part of me still is."

"I'm sorry, Son. So sorry."

"I feel bad too because I keep freaking out, and stuff that hasn't happened before keeps happening. Like that dream. All the others have been about when I was a kid. They're from memories." Steve sat up, letting his legs fall onto the swing, his eyes on the paper in his lap. "I hadn't dreamed about her being here now before."

"I didn't think you had."

"I mean, I know none of that really happened, but it's almost like the way she talked to me in the dream got to me like it did for real before."


	21. Chapter 21

"You'd think it would help me to focus on somebody else's past," Steve mumbled, dropping his head into the palm of his hand. He stared at the grade on the history quiz he had just gotten back, knowing it was low because he sometimes struggled to concentrate.

He opened his history textbook and put the quiz facedown between the pages, not wanting to look at it anymore. He picked up the book and the rest of his belongings before heading out into the hallway.

Steve went to his locker, putting in the numbers on the combination lock, popping it open. His hand gripped the locker door, his eyes widening, as he felt an arm slide around his waist. He tensed, his other hand still holding his history book.

"I'm sorry," Evie said. "Did I scare you?" She withdrew her arm, taking a step back.

Steve turned his head to look at her, not letting go of the locker door. "No. I just didn't see you there." He put his history book in the locker, pulling out his science book.

"Are you sure?"

Steve nodded, his eyes on the inside of the locker. "Yeah, it's fine."

Evie took a step closer, leaning to meet Steve's gaze. "Sweetie, it's okay if I did scare you. You can tell me."

Steve took a step away from the locker, as he slammed it shut. "Okay. You kind of did. But it's just because I didn't realize you were next to me. Sorry."

"It's okay, Steve." Evie reached out and squeezed his hand.

Steve squeezed her hand back. "Actually, I wanted to ask you if I could come over later. I have to work this afternoon, but right after that."

"Sure. I'll be home."

Steve moved closer to Evie, glancing around the hallway, as he spoke in a lower voice. "I want to tell you what I tried to before about, you know, the night I had the flashback. I think I can now, and you should know."

* * *

"Man, I am ready to go," Soda said, taking off his DX cap and rubbing his head.

Steve nodded, as he opened a box and started putting more candy bars on a shelf. "Yeah."

"Darry's wanting me to make dinner tonight. I think he won't be home til late though." Soda took a Pepsi from the refrigerator and dug in his pocket for some change. He pulled out a few coins, counting. "Hey, I thought I had more than that."

Steve moved to the next shelf, adding packages of crackers to it. "Yeah."

"Hey, Stevie, you got a quarter?"

Steve didn't look up. "Yeah, sure."

Soda grinned at his friend. "I ain't just asking out of curiosity, man."

Steve looked from the shelf to Soda. "Oh. Sorry." He pulled a quarter from his pocket and tossed it to his friend.

Soda caught the coin, adding it to the change in his hand. "Are you thinking about something there?"

Steve closed the box and picked it up, moving it behind the counter. "I told Evie I wanted to talk to her about something tonight, and now, I wonder if I shouldn't have."

Soda put the change for the Pepsi in the cash register, then went to punch out. "You nervous about talking to her?"

"I guess. It's just it's something I think she should know, but it's not easy to talk about. Not that anything has been lately. I don't want to cause any more problems between us. I've done that enough."

Soda paused in front of the counter, picking up the Pepsi and beginning to twist the cap off the top. "You know what I'm going to say to that, don't you?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. Should I?"

"You didn't cause any problems, buddy. You can't keep putting that on yourself."

* * *

"You can do this," Steve told himself, as he spotted Evie on the swing in her backyard. He waved, walking closer.

Evie stood up, meeting Steve in the middle of the yard. "Hey, you want to talk here, or go somewhere else?"

"Here's fine. I don't think it really matters."

Evie took Steve's hand in her own, leading him over to the swing. "Are you sure you're okay with talking about this?"

Steve nodded, sitting down beside Evie, but pulled his hand away. He fidgeted with a button on his DX shirt, looking down at it. "I thought I could handle it. Even when I didn't feel quite right, I thought I could stop it from getting to me too much."

"What are you talking about, sweetie?"

It's just Evie, Steve thought. You can tell her. "When we almost slept together. I tried to be okay. I wanted to be." He let his eyes gaze into hers. "But when I froze, I think it had something to do with you pushing me down onto the couch."

Evie looked down. "Oh."

"I'm not saying that's the only reason or anything, just that it's part of it. That was the second I knew I needed to stop, that I just couldn't..." Steve turned to face the other direction, his back to Evie.

"I don't know what to say. Except I hope you know I wouldn't make you do anything. I wasn't trying to be like- Well, I wouldn't be like _that. _I just wanted to kiss you and be with you."

"I do know that. I just can't handle anything that is like control or even reminds me of it. But I know that, I swear." Steve's voice started to waver. "I'm sorry. I'm telling you this because I want you to know it's not only about you touching me or even just about being close like we were."

"It's okay. I think I see. I understand."

"I think I understand how you could kiss somebody else after all of that."

Evie scooted closer to Steve. "I'm still sorry that happened."

"I'm still struggling with believing you could want me and love me now, you know?" Steve felt himself trembling. "Cause why wouldn't you want someone else?"

"Oh, Steve." Evie laid her head on the back of Steve's shoulder, wrapping one arm around him from behind. "Cause no one else is you, sweetie."

Steve gripped Evie's hand with his own. Exactly, he thought, as he bowed his head, tears leaking out of his eyes.

* * *

Nicholas opened his eyes, then closed them again, turning over just as he heard a scream. He bolted up, throwing his bedroom door open. He hurried down the hall to Steve's room to find his son wasn't there. He heard another scream and followed the sound to the other side of the house. He found Steve on the floor, his back pressed against the arm of the couch. "Son?"

Steve only stared ahead, his eyes wide open, as he took heavy breaths.

Nicholas drew closer, noticing the sweat on Steve's head and the way his face was flushed. "Son? You're okay."

Steve didn't respond, his breathing only growing heavier.

Nicholas got on his knees next to Steve and reached for his arm, squeezing gently. "Look at me, Steve. You're safe."

Steve didn't speak or look at Nicholas, as his body grew more tense. He trembled beneath his dad's touch.

Nicholas leaned closer, trying to meet Steve's eyes, even as he could see how glassy and unfocused they appeared. God, help me, he prayed silently. I haven't seen him like this before. "Come on, Son. Snap out of it."

When Steve still didn't show a sign of responding to him, Nicholas settled himself against the couch, crossing his legs, as he kept a hand on his son's arm. He continued to watch him, noticing when his breathing grew lighter, and his body began to appear more relaxed.

Nicholas tried talking to Steve again. "It's okay." He saw his son's eyes begin to drift closed. "Let me help you lie down." He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, helping him stand, then eased him onto the couch. He guided him to lie down, putting a pillow under his head.

Steve's eyes drifted all the way closed, his head sinking into the pillow.

Nicholas sat on the edge of the couch in front of Steve, looking at his son's face. "I don't want to leave you right now." He got up and pulled an extra blanket from the hall closet, curling up on the other end of the couch. He patted Steve's leg. "Just sleep, Son." Nicholas' eyes drifted up. "God, let him be able to rest. He needs a little peace."

* * *

Steve's eyes blinked open, as he stretched. He sat up and looked around, realizing he was on the couch. "How did I get here?" he mumbled.

Nicholas came from the hallway. "Hey, I was just about to wake you up."

Steve rubbed his face, yawning. "How did I end up here?"

"I hoped you could tell me that. Around one this morning, you were screaming. I found you in here."

"Huh? I don't remember that at all. I sure don't remember leaving my bed."

"I thought you were awake. You looked like it, but you didn't seem to know I was talking or that I was even there. Then, you just fell back asleep. Do you remember dreaming?"

"Yeah. But not much else. Just being scared." Steve sighed. "I guess I'm sleepwalking now too."

Nicholas patted Steve's shoulder. "It's all right. Whatever was going on, I think it might be better you don't remember. You looked terrified."

"I must have been to be screaming."

"Come on and have some breakfast. You've got plenty of time."

Steve looked down, shaking his head. "I'm not really hungry right now, Dad." He stood up, stretching some more. "I'm just going to go get dressed. Sorry about waking you up last night."

"Don't worry about that, Son. You know you don't have to apologize."

* * *

"How'd it go with Evie last night?" Soda asked, after he got into Steve's car.

Steve shifted into reverse, pulling away from the Curtis' house. "Okay, I guess. She listened."

Soda nodded. "Good. She cares about you, man."

Steve stared out the windshield, flipping on his signal before he turned left. He was silent for several seconds, driving in the direction of the DX. "Hey, Soda, can I tell you something?"

"You know you can."

"I don't know if me and Evie are going to make it. I thought we would even after..." Steve glanced at Soda, making brief eye contact, before letting his gaze drift back to the road. "But I don't know now."

"Just give it some time, buddy. What does she think?"

"I'm not sure. But I keep feeling like we're just going through the motions, trying to be together cause we think that's how it's supposed to be, you know?"

"Maybe you should tell her that."

"Maybe. It seems like there are some things I can't get past. I want to, but if I can't, it's not fair to her to keep doing this. She already waited for me once."

* * *

Steve felt the eyes of his classmates on him, as he picked up a piece of chalk. He looked at his homework paper that he held, diagrams and definitions staring back at him. He started to draw the genetic diagram: parents, phenotype, genotype, dominant allele, recessive allele.

Steve looked down at his paper again, feeling it begin to crumble in his hand. He pressed the chalk into the board, the punnett square and terms blurring together.

Mr. Grant stood near the board. "You know how to finish it, Steve?"

Steve looked at his teacher, then at his classmates, who were waiting for him. "I think I- I mean, I need-" He didn't finish speaking, only let the paper and chalk fall to the floor, as he fled from the classroom.

* * *

TwoBit shoved the hall pass into his pocket, sauntering away from the classroom. "It's almost the end of the day. Why does anyone care if I go take a piss?" He was about to open the bathroom door when Steve darted out of the classroom a couple of doors down. TwoBit stopped, his hand on the door handle. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Steve didn't reply, as he pushed open the door that led to the courtyard.

TwoBit cocked an eyebrow. "I wonder why he's in such a hurry."

* * *

Steve eyes bounced around the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air. The sun shone on him, as he sat on the bench farthest away from the school building. He pressed his back against it, digging his fingers into the metal.

Steve focused his eyes on the parking lot, seeing his own car and those of his classmates. His voice came out in a soft whisper. "You're just a memory. I'm not there. You're not real."

* * *

TwoBit peeked out the small window on the door leading to the courtyard. "What's he doing out there?" He went outside, starting to approach the bench where Steve sat. "Hey, man, what's going on?"

Steve lifted one foot onto the bench, laying his head against the material of his jeans. "Nothing, TwoBit."

TwoBit rested his elbows on the back of the bench, leaning forward. "You all right?"

Steve fought back tears borne more of embarrassment than the pain of memories. He felt TwoBit touch his shoulder, as he still stared out at the parking lot.

TwoBit spoke again. "You sick or something? Hell, if you were going to skip class, I thought you'd do it earlier."

Steve turned his head, resting it on his arm that was wrapped around his leg. "TwoBit, can you do something for me?"

"Sure, buddy. You don't sound too good."

"I can't go back in there. Would you go to Mr. Grant's classroom and grab my stuff for me. I just need to get out of here."

* * *

Steve found his DX shirt folded up on top of his bed, the cap next to it. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, still trying not to think about what had happened in class. He slipped on his DX shirt, doing up the buttons, then grabbed the cap on his way out of his bedroom. As he passed his dad's bedroom, he glanced inside.

Steve's mind raced, as he let his eyes drift to the bathroom, then back to his dad's room. His gaze swept over the several drawers in the dresser and the two in the nightstand, before moving toward the bed and closed closet.

Steve lifted a hand to his head, holding it there, as he took a deep breath. I need to walk away from here, he thought.

* * *

"You're here early," Soda said, when he saw Steve come inside the DX, just as he was wiping down the counter.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I won't punch in yet. It's just I left school early, and I didn't want to be at home."

"Oh." Soda paused, the rag he was using still in his hand. "Why'd you leave early?"

"I don't know if I can ever go back in there, Sodapop." Steve ran his hand through his hair, as he went behind the counter. He stared down at the station's tile floor, the blue and green pattern inching closer to him, as he eased himself onto it.

Soda kept an eye on the door. "What happened, buddy? Are you sure you should be here?"

"No, but being at home alone ain't a good idea either. I was in class, trying to write some stuff on the board. My mind, at first, it just went blank."

"Okay." Soda nodded. "What else?"

"And everybody was staring at me, or it felt like it anyway. Then, I don't know why, but a flashback started. So I just left class. I couldn't go back in there after that."

"Damn. I'm sorry, Stevie. You've still got a little time before you're supposed to be here. Why don't you go in the break room and try to relax?"

"It wasn't as bad as what happened here that day, but it was like everybody must be able to see what's in my head and feel-" Steve swallowed, rubbing his face. "My dad told me I was screaming last night too, and I don't even remember it."

"Do you need to call your dad? I know he always tells you to if you need him."

"No." Steve stood up, holding onto the edge of the counter. "I'm afraid if I go in the break room and just sit, I'm going to feel worse, and I don't want to call my dad."

"What do you need to do then?" Soda saw a couple of cars pull into the parking lot. "I'll stay a little longer if you need me to."

"I think I'm going to go in the garage and just try to find something to focus on. Okay?"

"Yeah. Please. Whatever will help."

* * *

Steve's pulled Laura's list from his wallet, though he felt he knew it by heart now. He let his eyes skim over the words on the page, then found the keys to the blue Chevy that set in the garage, seeing the paperwork on the desk. After quickly reading it over, Steve opened the driver's side door and sat down in the seat.

Steve opened his wallet and folded the list up, putting it back. He slipped the key into the car's ignition and turned it. He listened to the engine attempt to crank, a clicking sound coming from underneath the hood.

Steve turned the the car off, not letting go of the key. "I know how you feel, car. I ain't doing much better."

"Who are you talking to out there?"

Steve looked up from the car, seeing Soda at the door that led to the inside of the station. "Nobody. Just myself, I guess."

"Okay. I just wanted to check on you, while things aren't too busy."

Steve lifted himself out of the driver's seat, holding onto the car's door. "Thanks, Soda. I'm okay." As okay as I'm going to get anyway, he thought.

"All right, man. Darry should be here soon to pick me up, but please come over if you want to talk about anything later."

* * *

"Something on your mind, little buddy?" Darry asked, as he pressed his foot onto the gas pedal in his truck.

"Nothing you don't already know, Dar," Soda said, as he sighed.

"Remember. Come to me if you start to feel overwhelmed."

"I know. I ain't going to start doing anything stupid. I can be smart, you know."

Darry came to a stop sign, pushing on the brake, as his tone grew sharp. "Hey! Why the hell would you say that?"

Soda turned his head to look at his brother. "What?"

"Really, Sodapop?" Darry waited for a car to pass through the intersection, before he started driving again. "I've never said you're not smart."

"It didn't mean anything, I swear. Sorry. It just kind of came out."

Darry relaxed, his features softening. "You sure it doesn't mean anything?"

"I just hate feeling like I don't know what to do, okay? Or that what I do doesn't even matter."

* * *

Samuel was just letting himself into the house when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver, undoing the pin on his restaurant name tag. "Hello?"

"Hi, Samuel, it's Grace."

"Oh, hi." Samuel greeted his pastor's wife and sister-in-law. "You looking for Vivian? I think she must be in the backyard or something. If you'll give me a minute-"

"No, I was looking for you. David wanted to see if you could preach this coming Sunday. I told him I'd call you because I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Okay. I can put together a message. What did you want to talk about?"

"That man who's come to church these past few weeks. I knew I recognized him, and I just realized why."

A/N : What Steve experienced in that scene with Nicholas when he didn't respond is a night terror.


	22. Chapter 22

Steve was already awake when his alarm sounded, but he shut it off, before closing his eyes against the light of another day.

"You getting up, Son?" Nicholas asked, from Steve's doorway.

Steve opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I want to stay home today, Dad."

"I don't know if I like the idea of you being alone all day."

"I can't go back to school yet. I just can't. I'll be okay."

Nicholas walked into the room, sitting on the bed next to Steve. "I understand. And maybe you could use a break. I just want to know you'll be safe."

Steve sat up, keeping the blankets over his legs. "I'm not going to lie. I feel horrible. But I think I can handle that. I promise I'll call you if I think I can't, or I'll find somewhere to go."

Nicholas put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Okay. I believe you."

"I really just want to rest and not have to deal with anything today. That's all."

"All right, Son. I have to leave soon to get to work, but I'll call to check on you when I get a chance."

* * *

Samuel hadn't stopped thinking about what Grace told him. No wonder I've felt such a connection to both of them, he thought.

He stood in the kitchen of the restaurant, looking at the papers with the latest orders written on them. He got sausage patties from the freezer and tossed them onto the grill, before cracking several eggs and putting them in a large bowl.

Samuel remembered that Nicholas hadn't told him too much about the woman, who had abused Steve. He never even said a name or mentioned what happened after he made her leave. Yet, what Grace had said was enough for Samuel to connect the dots and know Clara was the one who had come into their lives and traumatized a young little boy. He didn't tell Grace what he knew about the situation, realizing Nicholas wouldn't want him to, but his sister-in-law sounded like she knew Clara wasn't as innocent as she had tried to claim.

Samuel flipped each of the sausage patties over with a spatula, then stirred the eggs with a spoon. He added butter to a pan and put it on the stove. He poured the eggs into the pan, then turned up the heat, continuing to stir them as they cooked.

Samuel didn't like to feel this way about another human being's suffering, especially after what he'd been through losing Matthew, but it seemed impossible to feel sorry for Clara. The guilt she must've experienced despite her claims of angelic intention was something she deserved. He had a hard enough time comprehending that someone would purposefully be so cruel to a child. He couldn't imagine that person also not even caring about the harm done, deceiving themselves into that kind of denial. Maybe it was possible that she came to realize how heinous her actions were, and knowing what a horrible thing she did was what drove her into despair. Samuel thought Clara must have admitted her wrongdoing in the end, and acknowledging no apologies could ever suffice, decided she couldn't live anymore.

* * *

Steve pulled his blanket over his face, trying to sleep some more. He hadn't had anymore dreams about Clara being there with him in the present, but he hadn't forgotten it either. How could he when the Clara in the dream that was only a product of his subconscious was so much like the real one in his memories?

Steve thought back to the conversations he'd had with Laura about the emotional abuse aspect. That's what this dream was. His mind had taken Clara's poisonous mix of soothing and threatening words and the force she'd used to quench her twisted desires and put it in the context of his recent situation with the bottle of pain medicine.

It was no wonder Steve had awakened and had to be sure that none of his dream was real. If Clara were here, her manipulative nature probably would lead her to smile at him and encourage him to sever their connection by attempting to die, like she knew the best way to make him feel better. Steve could imagine her taking hold of his wrist and using the words she knew would scare and confuse him, while physically trying to make him take a handful of pills.

Steve sat straight up in his bed, unable to miss the irony of the fact that Clara had taken her own life. What had she been thinking? Did she think she wanted to stop pain too? He turned, pushing the blanket off of his legs and planting both feet on the floor. He couldn't let his thoughts keep going down this path. It was much too dangerous.

* * *

Evie stopped by Steve's locker, expecting to find him there. When she didn't, she wandered over to the cafeteria, knowing his lunch period should have just ended. She didn't see him inside or out in the courtyard.

Evie went back to her own locker, finding Patricia standing there. "Hey, I was just looking for Steve. You seen him anywhere today?"

Patricia shook her head. "No, I haven't seen him."

Evie put in the numbers of her locker combination and opened it, then gathered up her English papers. "Maybe he's not here today. I was really wanting to see him though. We feel so distant. I don't know how to fix it either." She couldn't tell Patricia the rest of how she knew Steve was feeling after what he'd said at her house a couple of nights ago, but she could tell her friend that much.

"Maybe you two just need to spend some time together. He's not still upset about you kissing Tommy, is he?"

"No. We've actually talked about all of that recently. He isn't mad at me or anything like that." But he's still hurt, Evie thought. Though that isn't exactly all of why, even if it certainly didn't help.

"Why don't you do something nice for him? He's done a lot for you, hasn't he?"

Evie didn't voice her true thoughts about this either, but she couldn't help remembering that the last time she decided to do something nice for Steve, it hadn't turned out well at all. "Maybe. I don't know what though. Come on, we should get to class."

* * *

Steve hung up the phone, having just talked to his dad. He told him he was doing okay, which was the truth. He had done what he meant to, which was rest.

Steve still had on the shorts and white t-shirt he'd worn to bed the night before, as he turned on the TV, then curled up on the couch. He had laid his head against a soft cushion and was staring at the screen when he heard the front door open. "Hey, Soda."

"How did you know it was me?" Soda called back, as he let the door close behind him.

Steve cracked a small smile. "Cause I know you, man."

Soda came into the living room and sat down next to Steve. "Yeah, your dad called this morning to say you were staying home today, so I'd know to catch a ride to work with Darry."

Steve lifted his head off the couch cushion. "You eat anything yet?"

"Nah. Figured I'd raid your kitchen and make a sandwich or something."

"Of course."

Soda got to his feet and went to the kitchen, pulling out the loaf of bread. "What have you been doing today?"

"Just trying to rest. And trying not to think too much. I couldn't go back to school today. Not after that."

Soda returned to the living room, holding a bologna sandwich. He glanced at the TV, before going back to sit beside Steve. "You coming to work today?"

"Yeah, I think so, especially since I don't work tomorrow. I got some sleep, and seriously, I'm already kind of bored."

Soda took a bite of his sandwich. "I can understand that, but I get why you'd want to stay home too."

Steve put his feet up on the coffee table, stretching out. "Too much shit keeps happening, Sodapop."

"I know, buddy." Soda paused, just eating for a moment. "I'm not sure what I'm asking here cause it's not like I really know anything about all this stuff. But is there anything else you can do to help? Anything else that might make you feel better?"

"Not anything I know about. I think I'm doing everything. Sometimes, I feel like I'm going crazy though."

Soda finished the sandwich, still chewing as he talked. "Aw, you ain't crazy." He looked at the clock that hung on the wall and stood up. "I think I better go and get back to work. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure, man." Steve watched Soda begin walking away. "Hey, Soda?"

Soda turned back to his friend. "Huh?"

"You still been talking to Suzie?"

"Yeah, sure. I saw her the other day. She came over for a little while."

"You ain't been on any more dates with her?"

Soda's eyes dropped to the floor, as he bit his bottom lip. "Um, I kind of haven't been allowed to?"

Steve shifted his feet from the coffee table to the floor, staring at Soda. "What's that mean?"

"You know that night we doubled and went to that ice cream place and danced?"

"Yeah."

"Well, later, I kind of snuck out of the house. When I came home, it was real late, and Darry caught me."

Steve's eyebrows raised. "Why would you do that? Darry lets you pretty much do what you want, as long as you tell him, and it's not anything dangerous."

Soda stared down at this shoes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just wanted to see Suzie. So I did."

"Man, I bet Darry was mad."

"He was. But he's over it now. Mostly anyway. I really have to go now. I'll see you when you get to work."

* * *

Steve had just pulled on a pair of jeans and was fastening them, still clad in his white t-shirt, when he heard Evie's voice. "Steve? You here?"

"Yeah, Evie," Steve said. "I'm in my room. You can come on in here."

Evie came into the doorway, her backpack slung over one shoulder. "I looked for you at school today."

Steve sighed. "Yeah, something kind of happened yesterday in science class. Maybe it could have been worse, but I was still embarrassed. I didn't really want to face people today after that."

Evie set her backpack down on the floor and went to Steve, wrapping her arms around him. "You're going through an awful lot lately."

Steve let himself sink into the embrace, finding he needed the comfort.

Evie laid her head on Steve's shoulder, holding him tightly, as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "I love you so much. Tell me if there's anything I can do."

Steve found himself appreciating Evie's gentleness and her sweet nature. Other girls might have walked away from him after encountering the true implications of the past he was still working on processing. Yet, though Evie struggled with accepting it, she hadn't turned her back on him. Even when she felt so scared and hurt, she didn't give up. She kept loving him anyway. "I love you too," Steve said, giving Evie one last squeeze, before pulling away. "And you're already doing what you can."

* * *

"Okay, Son," Nicholas said. "I just can't help but worry about you. Since you're going to work, I'll see you later tonight." He listened for a moment. "Okay. Bye." He placed the phone that hung on the wall in the back of the grocery store back in its cradle.

Nicholas walked away from the break area and into the stock room. He found a box that held loaves of bread, then another that had jars of peanut butter in it. He was grateful for being able to stay busy. If he didn't, he was certain he would hurry home to make sure Steve was okay. It wasn't that Nicholas didn't believe him, but he did realize how quickly that could change.

After he found a cart in the corner, Nicholas stacked the boxes onto it, then went into the walk-in refrigerator, pulling the cart along with him. His eyes searched the shelves, looking for the frozen dinners.

Nicholas knew Steve came and talked to him when he needed to, though he could see that, at times, this was hard for his son to do. He didn't blame him in the least, acknowledging how difficult it must be to cope with suicidal feelings, especially on top of flashbacks and significant anxiety. However, it did concern Nicholas to know that Steve actually had kept the incident with the pills in the medicine cabinet all to himself initially. He understood why, yet it made him want to keep an even closer eye on his son.

Nicholas put several stacks of frozen dinners on the cart, then left the refrigerator, closing the door behind him. He pulled the cart along, rolling it behind him, as he made his way past several aisles, going to the other side of the store.

Nicholas hoped if Steve struggled so terribly again with any sort of temptation, he wouldn't wait to say something. His son had to know now, after all they'd been through and how close they continued to grow, Nicholas would never be mad at him for anything he thought or felt, even when it made him have to face the true darkness of the past and push back his own worst fear.

* * *

Steve had held Evie, hugging her close, as she embraced him. He'd enjoyed the touch, needing the physical solace. Still, pondering on and soaking in her gentleness, his mind entered a paradox. He tried to push the thoughts and questions away, to bury them beneath the love and support that constantly surrounded him. But, he found himself in the middle of his dad's room.

How can I have Evie close to me and in my arms and still fight this? Steve mused to himself. If she is so caring and I'm still able to connect her with these memories of abuse, with so much pain and confusion, what hope is there?

Steve closed his eyes, soaking in the darkness, as he attempted to make his feet move. His thoughts continued to spin, remembering how Clara was a monster, a woman who had preyed on a child, a woman who knew nothing about being truly loving or nurturing. How can Evie be with me or hold me, knowing I'm making her a link to a past that isn't hers to suffer? If I hated it so much when Clara put her hands on me, how can I think about it and feel it happening all over again when I'm with someone I care about, someone who loves me?

Steve opened his eyes, letting them land on the Bible that lay on his dad's bed. He could almost hear Clara's voice telling him God didn't care. But he had to, right? Even if he hadn't stopped her, God must care. Surely, he hadn't made her into such a terrible person. Steve didn't know why or how Clara could be so selfish or full of the worst kind of evil, but that couldn't be the God his dad sought after, the one his mom had loved so. That wasn't the God Steve himself had begun to try to let into his heart.

Steve shifted his eyes from the Bible to the door of his dad's closet, his heart beginning to beat faster. He couldn't do this, could he? He should walk away and finish getting ready for work. Soda would be waiting for him. Steve remembered his best friend showing up at the right moment, though he was still oblivious to it. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell him. Just go, Steve thought, as he turned to scan the drawers on the nightstand and dresser. No, don't look in those, he tried to convince himself.

Steve pondered the feeling of drifting to sleep and never waking up, of making this pain not exist anymore. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to hurt either. He didn't want to feel the confusion and shame that permeated his identity or keep living through the memories over and over again, unable to make them stop. He'd had enough.

Steve dropped to his knees in front of the dresser, the promise to his dad fluttering through his mind, along with his words to Laura. He'd said he would call someone or go somewhere, that if he felt like this again, he would try not to fall further into it. He opened the top dresser drawer, his hands pulling out Nicholas' clothes. His eyes roamed the inside of the drawer, before moving onto the next one. He kept going, finding only clothes in each of the drawers, as the impulse started to weaken.

Steve felt tears begin to form in his eyes, his chest tightening. What am I doing? he wondered. What if I did find the pills? He laid his head down in his lap, the tears falling and soaking his jeans. He shook, as he covered his head with his arms. "God, please help me. I don't want to be like this."

* * *

"Hey, Nicholas, there was a phone call for you."

Nicholas looked up from the paper bags he was filling with a customer's groceries, unable to stop fear from striking his heart, as he heard his coworker's words.

"It was your son. I told him you'd call right back. Go ahead. I'll finish up here."

Nicholas nodded, as he hurried to the back of the store, knowing Steve wouldn't call unless he really needed him. He picked up the phone, reminding himself to breathe, as he dialed their number and listened to it ring. When Nicholas heard Steve's voice on the line, he let out a breath, forcing his voice to sound calm. "Hey, Son, you called?"

"Dad, can you please come home?" Steve's voice said, shaking with emotion.

"I can. Are you okay?"

"No. I need you."

* * *

Steve sat on the floor between the window and the front door, unable to stop the sobs that continued to shake him. He shut his eyes against the daylight that poured into the kitchen, tears slipping down his cheeks. He made no effort to wipe them away.

As Steve wept, fear and guilt poured over him, their ever tightening hold making him choke. He saw the door open, and before he could even utter a single word, Nicholas' arms were holding him. Steve found himself clutching his dad's shirt in his fists, as he cried. "Dad, I love you."

Nicholas didn't let go, only strengthening the embrace, as he spoke. "What happened, Son?"

Steve buried his face in Nicholas' chest, sobbing harder, as he searched for words to explain.

"Hey, I'm here, but you have to talk to me."

Steve didn't lift his head, the need to rest battling with the desire to tell his dad everything. "I'm so tired, Dad. So tired. I'm sorry."

Nicholas put his hands on Steve shoulders, guiding him back enough to see his face. "I'm listening. "Please talk to me."

Steve held on to his dad's arms. "I tried to find them."

Nicholas lifted a hand, wiping tears from Steve's cheeks. "You tried to find what?"

"The pills from the medicine cabinet. I looked for them."

Nicholas drew Steve close to him again. "You were feeling like you did before?"

Steve nodded against Nicholas' chest. "Yeah. I swear I didn't mean to look. It's not what I planned at all. I just started feeling so much, hurting so much." Another sob choked him, more tears falling. "I just kept thinking about going to sleep and not feeling all of it anymore."

"Shhh. But you called me. You didn't do anything."

"But I pulled everything out of your dresser. I was looking for them, so I could do it. So it would stop."

Nicholas rested his cheek against Steve's head, stroking his hair. "Son, there's no medication in this house. Nothing for you to find."

* * *

Nicholas finished folding up his clothes that were heaped onto the floor, putting them back in each of the dresser drawers.

"I'm sorry about that, Dad," Steve said, his eyes still red from crying, as he sat down on Nicholas' bed

Nicholas put the last of his clothes in the top drawer, then closed it. "I'm not worried about that, Steve." He slid the Bible that lay on his bed over, sitting next to his son. "But I am worried about you."

"Me too." Steve looked down at the carpet. "I'm supposed to be at work right now. I just called."

"You don't need to go, do you?"

"No. Mr. Coleman actually picked up. I told him I had a family emergency."

"That's kind of true."

"Soda was still there too. Coleman said something about getting him to stay a little longer. I had just told him I was coming to work when he stopped by earlier." Steve covered his face with his hands. "I know he'll come over as soon as he gets off."

Nicholas rubbed Steve's shoulder. "You don't have to tell him. Not unless you want to."

"I know. But I think I do. Just scares me."

"I hope you're not thinking he'll be mad at you. That's not Sodapop at all."

* * *

"Hey, man, what happened today?" Soda asked, coming up the porch steps. "Coleman said you told him something about a family emergency. You guys okay?"

Steve sighed, taking one last drag off his cigarette, before putting it out and tossing it to the ground. "I didn't know what else to tell him. Cause I was about to go in, but then I couldn't."

"What happened?"

Steve walked to the middle of the porch, turning away from Soda, as he put his hand out to lean on the wall next to the front door.

Soda followed Steve, staying behind him. "Stevie, what's going on?"

"Soda, do you remember that day you came over, and I was standing in the bathroom holding a bottle of pills?"

Soda moved closer, standing beside Steve. "Yeah. What about it?"

Steve swallowed hard, keeping his head down, his eyes on the concrete underneath his feet. "I acted like I did because I was thinking about taking a bunch of those pills."

Soda reached out and gripped Steve's shoulder, coming to stand right in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"I thought maybe-" Steve looked up at Soda, seeing him staring right back, before he pulled his eyes back down, his voice growing quieter. "maybe if I took enough of them, I wouldn't wake up."

Soda gripped Steve's shoulder even tighter. "So the medicine cabinet and you looking at your hands like that, that was why."

"Yeah. So I don't know what might've happened if you hadn't come in when you did. I don't know if I would've put them down or..."

Soda's eyes grew wide. "Please don't do that."

Steve lifted his head, letting his hand fall to his side. "I didn't. So you did help, buddy. I'm not sure if I would've walked away. All I could think about was making the pain stop."

Soda let go of Steve's shoulder, but never moved his gaze from his best friend's face.

"I told my dad about it a couple of days after. He took everything out of the medicine cabinet." Steve walked a few steps forward, standing right in front of the swing. "Today, I started feeling bad like that again. Really bad."

Soda turned, still watching Steve, though he stayed silent.

"I looked for the pills. And if I had found them, I think-" Steve glanced at Soda, seeing the expression on his face and the tears that had formed in his eyes. "Soda?"

Soda took a step back, beginning to breathe hard. "Please don't."

Steve went toward Soda, touching his shoulder.

Soda's eyes grew wider, as he took another step back, his voice coming out in a choked whisper. "Please don't hurt yourself."

"Soda, I-"

Soda forced himself to look away from Steve, then ran off the porch.

* * *

"Just give him a few minutes, Son," Nicholas said, as he stepped outside and sat down next to Steve. "Then go talk to him."

"I feel terrible," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't know he would react like that."

"You're his best friend. It's only because he cares about you."

"I know." Steve sighed. "Damn, this turned out to be a rough day."

* * *

Soda closed his bedroom door, then fell to the floor beside his bed. His knees buckled beneath him and hit the carpet, as he started to sob. "Please, God. Please don't let me have to think about losing my best friend. I don't know what I would do. Please don't make me have to figure it out."

There was a soft knock on the door, before it opened and Soda heard Darry's voice. "Little buddy, what's going on?"

* * *

Nicholas followed Steve inside. "I'm sure he just went home. I saw when he left. Fast as he was moving, it wouldn't have even taken long at all."

Steve picked his car keys up off the counter. "I can't wait anymore. He has to be home by now. I have to make sure he's okay."

Nicholas nodded. "I know you do. He'll be all right, but go talk to him. I bet he needs that."

* * *

Steve opened Soda's bedroom door. "Darry?" His older friend looked up from where he kneeled beside Soda. "Can I talk to him?"

Darry nodded, squeezing Soda's shoulder, before he left his side.

Steve felt Darry pat his back, and he nodded at him, as he left. He closed the door, hearing it click, before he sat down next to Soda. He rested a hand on his back. "It's okay, buddy. I'm sorry."

Soda clasped his hands together, resting his chin on them, as he cried. "I'm sorry I left. But I can't think about- You're my best friend, and I don't want-" He took in one sharp breath, followed by another.

Steve gripped the back of Soda's shirt. "Breathe, Sodapop. Just breathe."

Soda took one deep breath. "I didn't tell you how damn scared I've been."

"I'd be scared too if you told me you were feeling like I have been. I didn't tell you what happened before because I was afraid you'd be mad at me. I know I said I wouldn't do anything like that, and I got real close."

"I'm not mad at you." Soda shook his head, as he wiped his eyes. "I just can't take thinking about you hurting that bad. So bad that you stand there and think about dying. That's too close, buddy."

Steve felt tears well up in his own eyes, as he nodded his head. "I know. That's why I told my dad. Cause I didn't know if I might do that again. It's real hard to fight, Soda. I didn't realize how far I could fall."

"So your dad got rid of the pills?"

"Yeah. He did. Before today, I thought he just hid them, but he told me they're not in the house. I was looking for something that ain't there. He sure did the right thing."

Soda put a hand on Steve's shoulder, looking at him. "Please still come to me if you need to. I didn't tell you how scared I am because I thought you wouldn't if you knew."

Steve kept his hand on Soda's back. "Okay. I will. I knew you were worried though. It wasn't hard to see. But I'm still here. I'll feel like that and kind of get lost in it, then it's like I'll realize what I'm doing. That's what happened when I heard you talking to me that day."

Soda closed his eyes, his hands pressed against his face, more tears falling down his cheeks. "Just please don't hurt yourself. Please don't."

Steve had tears on his face, as he pulled Soda close, wrapping him in his arms. "I know how much you wanted to help and you did, buddy. You came in at the right moment. I'm trying. I really am. I should've done it sooner today, but I did call my dad when I needed him."

Soda hid his face in Steve's chest, holding onto him tightly. "Thank God," he whispered. "Thank God and whoever else has been watching."

"Maybe he has been listening, huh?" Steve rested his head against Soda's. "I keep hurting so much, but I've even started to think he cares. He must be hearing me."

* * *

"Hey, Son, Nicholas said, seeing Steve in the living room. "I didn't hear you come in. You talk to Sodapop?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. What tough greasers we are. Both of us bawled like babies."

"You're both about as tough as I am. I've shed more than my share of tears lately."

"I feel like it's all I've done today. So much for resting, huh? I really was okay when I talked to you that last time, Dad."

Nicholas sat on the couch, pulling Steve down next to him. "So what happened?"

Steve looked away from Nicholas. "I was just thinking too much."

"About what exactly?"

"Just making it stop. Not being able to remember." Steve met Nicholas' eyes, the words he needs to speak outloud hovering near the tip of his tongue. "There's more, but can we talk about this tomorrow? Please?"

"All right. Tomorrow then. You're going to be okay, Son. You know my door's open tonight if you need me."

* * *

Darry opened the back door, finding Soda on the porch steps. "Hey, little buddy, I thought you'd gone to bed. Pony was asking about you."

"You can tell him I'm okay," Soda said. "I think Steve and me both needed to get a lot of stuff off our chests."

Darry sat on the step beside Soda. "I hate it for him that he's struggling like that."

"Me too." Soda rubbed his eyes, sighing. "You were right, Dar. I did help, and I didn't even know how much. And it matters more than I want to think about. Even if it hasn't left my mind since he told me."

"You and Steve always have each other's backs. Especially when it counts."

"I know he's always had mine." Soda looked up at the sky, his voice growing quieter. "Even when I couldn't have known I needed it. That sure counts for a hell of a lot."

Darry tilted his head to the side, studying Soda. "Are you talking about what I think you are?"

"Probably. It's awful hard to forget. Almost as hard as what I heard today."


	23. Chapter 23

Steve stood near the window in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. He stared out into the darkness, street lamps casting their glow, shadows falling on the sidewalk around them. He set the water down on the table, going closer to the window. He placed his hand on the glass, feeling the chill the late hour had carried in with it. He pressed his fingers to the coldness, focusing on the fragile silence of night.

Steve let his hand slide down to the window sill, leaning his head on the glass. He wanted to sleep and had found he couldn't, despite the exhaustion that mingled with the flurry of emotions still holding him in their grip, showing no sign of letting go. He closed his eyes, his head still touching the glass, as the headlights of a car shone on the front yard. It illuminated a path, as it traveled along the road. Just as quickly as it came, the car passed the Randles' house, taking the light with it, wherever the driver may be headed.

Steve's eyes opened, and he realized how sleepy he felt. He wandered away from the kitchen, entering the hallway, then paused near his dad's bedroom door. It stood open, as Steve knew it would. Only this time, it was wide open, not just slightly ajar. He padded into the room and slid into the bed, laying his head on the pillow next to his dad's. He drew close to him, though was careful not to disrupt Nicholas' slumber.

Steve stared at his dad, even as his eyelids grew heavier. He found he had to marvel at how close they had become. He didn't want to think about what he would do without Nicholas, who was constantly there when he needed him and was doing anything in his power to keep him safe and help him heal.

* * *

Steve took a deep breath, willing his feet to take him into the school. He knew he couldn't stay away forever, even if he did want to try. Kids moved around him, talking to friends, as they entered the building. Come on, Steve told himself. Just go inside. No one knows why you left. They aren't inside your head. They have no idea what you were feeling or remembering.

Steve pushed himself forward, opening the door that would lead him into the hallway where his homeroom was. He adjusted the strap of the backpack that was on his shoulders, as he glanced at the bench in the courtyard, where he'd sat a couple of days prior. He didn't let his eyes linger there long, before disappearing into the school.

* * *

Stop it, Soda told himself, as he slid out from under the car he was working on. He sat up on the creeper, throwing the wrench into the toolbox, and hearing the clang of metal as it landed. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants, as he stood up and went over to the small desk in the corner of the garage. Don't think about all the "what-if's," he reasoned.

"Hey, Sodapop!"

Soda turned his head, seeing Mr. Coleman at the door to the station. "Sir?"

"I'm going to lunch. Just wanted you to know. Everything is still in order in here. But it's starting to get kind of busy."

Soda nodded at his boss and made his way to the door. Please don't ask the questions, he thought. Please don't even go there.

* * *

"I'm fine, TwoBit," Steve said, his friend following behind him, as he went up to the drink machine right outside the cafeteria. He opened his wallet, unzipping the change pocket.

"All right, all right," TwoBit said. "If you say so."

Steve was searching for quarters when he saw the list he'd made with Laura that he had tucked into his wallet, the plan that he wished he couldn't use. Even though he still struggled, he had to admit the idea helped. It was just so much harder than the words printed on the page could express in their simplicity. "Just been a rough time lately, man. That's all."

TwoBit slapped Steve on the back, grinning. "Well, let me know when you want to skip class for real. My teachers have gotten to used to seeing me."

* * *

"Hey, give me that, Soda!" Pony said, laughing, as he stood up on the sidewalk outside the DX and tried to retrieve his book from his brother's hands.

Soda held the novel up and away from Pony, the open pages above his own head. "Nah, not til I figure out what's so interesting." He turned to the book, his eyes seemingly searching.

"Well, it probably ain't interesting to you." Pony shook his head. "Staring at it like that won't help."

"Aw, man, I was hoping some big lesson or something would jump out at me." Soda gave the book a shake. "Nope, nothing." He handed it back to Pony, as he shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

Pony took the novel and closed it, double checking the page number he'd last been on before Soda swiped it. "I better head back to school."

"I'll see you at home tonight, Pone." Soda ruffled Pony's hair, before picking up the brown paper sack that had held his lunch and crumpling it in his hands.

Pony held the book, flipping it over to see the story's summary, as he turned. He paused, looking at Soda over his shoulder.

Soda took aim, the crumpled paper sack sailing into the trashcan that stood at the edge of the parking lot.

"Soda, are you okay? I know you were awful upset last night."

Soda hesitated, the images that he couldn't shake from his mind playing like a reel of tragic reflection. But he nodded. "I'm all right, little brother."

* * *

Steve was opening his history textbook to the chapter Mr. Johnson had just told the class to reference when he saw the edge of something blue peeking out from between the pages. He slid it out of the book, his teacher going on about the year 1917 and how the United States officially became involved in the First World War.

Steve saw the picture of the night sky, realizing this was the card Evie had given him. What can I promise her? he thought. He figured it was a good thing she didn't ask him to give her the moon and the stars because he couldn't even give her a night unbridled by the aftershocks of his childhood.

* * *

Grace filled a textured crystal vase with water, turning off the sink before carrying it to the table nestled next to the window in the small den. She set the daisies inside the vase, one by one, the purple crystal surrounding the dozen white flowers.

She thought of the first time she'd seen Nicholas Randle at the church. His face had seemed so familiar. Yet, it was little wonder she couldn't place him. She'd only met him once before. She was certain he would never recognize her, and from her own recollection, there was no way he would want to remember her.

Grace would never be able to wipe from her memory the image that led her to the Randles' house to deliver news she had expected to devastate them.

* * *

Steve turned to Evie, as they neared Mr. Grant's classroom. "I'll talk to you after school."

Evie reached over and squeezed Steve's hand. "All right, sweetie." She gave him a smile, before going in the other direction.

Steve went through the door that was propped open. He'd spent most of the day avoiding talking to or even looking at the vast majority of his classmates, and he had no intention of trying a new approach now, as he made his way to a desk in the back corner of the room, one that usually remained vacant. Steve kept his head down, seeing Mr. Grant taking attendance. He stared at his notebook that lay open on the smooth surface of the desk. This was the first time he had looked at his science classwork since fleeing from the room, while everyone was watching him. He didn't want to see it now and didn't want to be there at all.

Steve felt Mr. Grant's gaze land on him and sank further down into his chair. He pulled the notebook onto his lap, turning the pages, while pretending to read through the information.

Mr. Grant jotted down the last of the check marks in his attendance book, then folded it closed. "All right, class. Turn your attention to the board, and we'll get started."

* * *

Grace laid the velvet curtains out on the sofa in the corner of the room. She eyed the window, the light from it making the crystal vase seem to glow. She slid the curtain rod into the opening, the gentle purple material easily going over it.

She hadn't yet married David when she had opened her door to find a friend of hers in tears, needing a place to go because things weren't working out where she currently lived. She would never turn a friend away and had offered to let her stay in her guest room, even realizing trouble seemed to follow the woman, like an ever-lurking mysterious presence.

Grace held the curtains up in front of the window, noticing how the crystal of the vase and the velvet complemented one another. She hooked the rod onto one latch and then the other, before securing the curtains open, careful not the break the flow of light into the room.

* * *

Steve let out a breath when he heard the bell ring, but didn't move to get up, watching as the rest of the class gathered their belongings and resumed conversations.

Mr. Grant put an eraser to the chalkboard, moving it back and forth. "Have a good weekend, guys!"

While his teacher still faced the board, Steve quickly stood up, textbook and notebook in his arms. He started toward the door, his eyes on the floor.

Mr. Grant put his eraser down, seeing Steve out of the corner of his eye. "May I talk to you a minute?"

Steve stopped, his back to Mr. Grant. "I guess so."

Mr. Grant leaned back against the chalkboard. "What happened the other day?"

Steve's grip tightened on the books in his arms. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know."

Steve turned around, locking eyes with Mr. Grant for only a second. "I just couldn't think. I'm sorry. There's some stuff kind of on my mind, and I needed to get away, I guess."

Mr. Grant nodded. "You doing better today?"

Steve shrugged. "I guess so."

"If anything like that happens again, you don't have to leave, you know."

Steve dropped his head. "Sure. Sorry. I just haven't felt...well."

"Make sure you get yesterday's notes from somebody. You don't want to get behind."

"I won't sir. I promise." Steve took a step back. "And I won't miss anymore class. Can I go now?"

* * *

Grace held a pillow in each arm, as she stood in front of the sofa in the corner of the den. She tucked one pillow onto the left side of it. She put the other one of the right side, before standing back to admire the white satin pillows that were lined with purple silk. She had liked to decorate even prior to the events of several years ago. She enjoyed rearranging furniture, adding splashes of color, and making beauty out of a simple space. However, it had become something she needed to do back then.

Grace had told Samuel about the night she'd come home to a tragic sight. Even hearing of the turmoil going on, she hadn't expected such an ending. She remembered dialing 911, remembered being in shock for days after.

She had come back into this very room, now bright with the crystal vase of daisies and just hung velvet curtains, and changed everything about it. As Grace's mind still reeled, attempting to process her friend's fate, she'd needed to change the scenery, alter the space, so it didn't so closely resemble the room in her memories.

* * *

Evie was walking through the courtyard and waving to some friends when she saw Steve. He was going toward the parking lot, his feet quick. She sped up her pace, trying to catch up to him. "Steve!"

Steve didn't come to a stop until he got to his car, leaning against the driver's side window.

Evie came to stand next to him. "Hey, why are you in such a hurry?"

Steve pulled his keys out of pocket, unlocking the car door. "Sorry. I heard you, but I really just wanted to get to my car. I'm ready to get out of here." He opened the door and put his backpack inside.

"Something happen in class?"

"No." Steve took his keys out of the lock and held them in his hands, leaning against the still open door. "Just after a couple of days ago, I don't want anyone looking at me or talking to me. Even thinking about it makes me feel weird."

"What exactly did happen that day? You didn't tell me yesterday."

"I was in front of the class, trying to put what I had on my homework paper on the board. And memories happened. Like they always do."

* * *

Grace didn't think about it often anymore, but as she settled a floor lamp across from the table that held the vase of flowers, her mind drifted back to the day she'd told Samuel about.

She plugged the lamp in and switched it on, then off again. She looked over at the sofa, remembering when there had been a bed in that spot. This used to be a guest room. Before she married David, before becoming a part of the church she now loved, and just after moving into this house, she'd had a friend named Clara.

* * *

Steve was on the couch, his legs stretched out across it, lying on his side with his arms tucked close to his chest. "It's Friday, and I'm just lying here. Maybe Evie's right, and we should go out." He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Great. Now, I'm talking to myself again. At least everyone is class didn't see me do that."

He turned his head, noticing his dad's Bible on the table in the kitchen. Curious, Steve got up and went to it, sitting in the closest chair. He opened the Bible, first to the beginning of Genesis, then to the middle of the Old Testament, noticing the vaguely familiar names of prophets.

Steve saw his mom's notes in the margins and smiled a little. Even if he didn't find the same consolation in it, he understood how Nicholas could. He made it to the New Testament, realizing these first four books were the Gospels. They told the story of Jesus. He turned several pages into Matthew, the words of the Savior in red. Steve came to the eleventh chapter, finding a verse he guessed Rose must have circled, though nothing was written next to it:

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for you souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

"Rest for my soul, huh?" Steve stared out the window, the blue sky with its fluffy white clouds gazing back. "I don't know if he was talking about me here. Probably not. But that's what I need, God."

* * *

Nicholas opened the door to see Steve with the Bible in front of him. "Hey, Son."

Steve turned one more page, before closing it. "Hey."

Nicholas sat down, pulling his shoes off his feet, then crossing his legs over one another. "How was today?"

"All right, I guess. Nothing happened anyway."

"You staying in tonight or going out?"

"I haven't decided yet. Evie was talking about going to the drive-in, but I don't really feel like being around people in public or anywhere like that, you know?"

Nicholas stood, patting Steve's shoulder. "Yeah. I get it. How about some dinner then?" He wouldn't comment on it yet, and he didn't know where Steve now found himself when it came to God, but at least his son seemed to be seeking, instead of rejecting.

* * *

"Little warm out for that still, isn't it?" Darry asked, seeing Soda outside, holding a mug of hot chocolate.

Soda sipped the hot liquid, shrugging. "I don't care. It's still chocolate, and I guess it's soothing."

"I noticed something."

Soda took another sip of hot chocolate, his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Darry grinned. "The mashed potatoes looked normal tonight."

"Should they have looked" Soda shook his head, the mug still in his hand. "not normal?"

"Well, I don't know. I expected them to be green or purple. Something like that."

Soda smiled a little, shrugging. "Yeah. Okay. Just didn't feel like the food coloring tonight."

"You okay?"

"Geez, Dar! I make plain potatoes, and you're asking if I'm okay? I'm fine. Quit worrying."

"I notice little things like that."

Soda sighed, setting his mug down on the porch railing and pick up his pack of cigarettes. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit one of the sticks. "I'm fine, Darry." He saw his big brother's eyes go to the pack of cigarettes, as he put the one he'd lit between his lips. "Before you say it, yes, I've still been smoking a lot."

"You read my mind, little buddy."

Soda puffed on the cigarette, letting out a breath of smoke. I'm glad you can't read mine, he thought.

* * *

Evie really had wanted to go out with Steve tonight. They usually did on Friday nights. Patricia may be right, she thought. We do need to spend some time together. Yet, hadn't they been doing that? She honestly didn't know how to mend the distance between them.

Evie wrote the date in her journal, her pen seeming to glide across each line on the page, as she tried to put her thoughts into words. She could understand Steve not wanting to go out. It seemed like he'd had a tough week from what she knew, and his reaction made her suspect there was more he hadn't told her. Then again, he'd had a tough few weeks. Truly, Evie and Steve both had spent that whole time attempting to recover from his flashback during their intimate moment and her own mixed up way of coping in the aftermath.

Evie continued to write, filling up page after page. When she finally looked up from her journal, she realized it was beginning to get dark outside. Through her window, she could see the beginning of night looming, as light faded. She heard her mom call her name, then she closed the book that held her personal thoughts and feelings, tucking it under her pillow.

* * *

Steve put his fork down on the plate, as he finished chewing his food. "Hey, Dad, I know you want to talk about yesterday and stuff, but can we do it later?"

Nicholas set his glass down next to his empty plate. "Sure, we can, Son. I only want to because I know you need to."

Steve sighed, getting up from the table and picking up his plate. He took it to the sink. "You're right. And I know it ain't ever going to be easy to talk about, but some of what I was thinking about yesterday when-" He rubbed his forehead, leaning his elbow on the counter next to the sink.

Nicholas got to his feet, putting his own plate in the sink, then stood beside Steve and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we can talk about it later tonight."

Steve took a deep breath and looked up at Nicholas. "I was just trying to say some of this is part of the reason I started breathing funny in Laura's office this week. I was trying to tell her, and I couldn't."

* * *

Soda saw Steve coming toward the house and walked outside. "Hey, man, what's up? I thought you'd be out with Evie."

Steve came up the porch steps. "Not tonight. But I did need some air, so thought I'd walk over here."

"Just the usual going on here." Soda picked up the mug he'd left on the porch railing earlier, taking a sip, then looking down at the liquid. "Just drinking cold chocolate."

"Cold chocolate, huh?"

The sound of something crashing drifted from inside the Curtis' house, following by laughter and yelling voices.

Soda grinned. "TwoBit's here. Both my brothers are home too." He pulled the door open. "Why don't we go inside and see what they're all up to in there?"

Steve shook his head, not moving his feet. "No. Not right now."

Soda let the door close. "You okay?" He set the mug back down on the railing.

"Yeah." Steve shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. "I just don't feel like being around people."

Soda frowned and looked down at himself. "Damn. I thought I was a person."

Steve chuckled. "Nah, you're Sodapop! You ain't people, man!"

"Man, to think I've been wrong all my life!" Soda sat down on the swing, using his feet to push it back, then lifting them off the porch. "It's just Darry, Pony, and TwoBit, Stevie." He sat back, the swing still moving.

"I know. I just don't feel like trying to be around a group tonight. That's all."

* * *

Nicholas spread a dry towel out next to the sink. He set the just washed dishes on top of it, hearing the clang of pots, plates, and silverware. Every time he let his gaze wander near the front door, he thought of the way Steve had looked the day before when he stepped inside. His son had been so upset, he seemed almost grief-stricken.

Nicholas used a wash cloth to wipe down the counter, then tossed it over the faucet. He crossed his arms, leaning back next to the stove. As much as he hated to admit it, even just to himself, the temptation to find relief in a bottle of liquor still existed. But he wouldn't do that. He couldn't, knowing one glass would certainly lead to a whole bottle. He couldn't be there for Steve if he was drunk, especially not when his son fought with the impulse that made him feel like going to sleep to never wake up.

Nicholas closed his eyes. "God, I don't want to think about him feeling like that. No wonder he cried so much yesterday." He felt tears of his own begin to well up, thinking of all Steve had endured in a mere few weeks. Is there anything else I can do to help? he wondered. Anything else to be there for him and keep him safe? Deep down, Nicholas knew he was doing all he could, but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep asking the questions.

He opened his eyes and lifted a hand to rub them, beginning to make his way to his bedroom. He understood how Steve could think like he had been, could feel so pained by the past that still plagued him with flashbacks and an array of emotions. Nicholas didn't have to know the specifics of what Steve was thinking to see how these lingering effects of trauma could lead to a sense of desperation. Yet, he had to hope if his son would open up to him about it tonight, that would help.

* * *

"Go easy on my beer there, little buddy," Darry said. "He gestured to TwoBit, who stood on the edge of the porch. "This good buddy of ours right here already puts enough of a dent in it."

Soda sat down next to Steve and popped open another can of beer, taking a swallow. He grinned when TwoBit stuck his tongue out at Darry.

TwoBit made his way across the porch and down the steps, as he waved. "See ya'll later!"

Darry nodded at his buddy, then went back inside the house.

Steve turned to Soda. "Hey, I think I'm going to head home."

Soda took another gulp of beer, before speaking. "All right, man."

Steve didn't make a move to stand. "I guess I should anyway."

"Stay as long as you want, buddy. You know that."

"Yeah. I know."

"Want to go find something else to do? You've been out here a while."

"I just don't really feel like doing anything."

Soda looked down at the beer he held in his hand. "Okay."

"My dad wants to talk about some stuff from yesterday. I'm not exactly looking forward to it."

"You know something?"

Steve shrugged, looking at Soda. "What?"

"I'm real proud of you and your dad."

Steve watched Soda take a long sip of beer. "Why's that?"

"Cause you're doing so good with each other now. No matter what happens, he's in it with you. I don't know, I guess it's nice to see."

"We are good now. I didn't know we could be like this."

Soda patted Steve's shoulder. "That's been the best thing for you, man. He's sure in your corner, and I don't think he could be pushed out of it."

* * *

"Dad? You awake?" Steve asked, when he saw Nicholas stretched out on his bed, the Bible open next to him.

"Yeah. I'm awake, Son," Nicholas said. "Just resting a little bit."

Steve sat down at the foot of the bed, tracing his finger along the dark green blanket that covered it. "I know you want to talk, and I should. I think you already know some of this too, but it's different than before. Maybe even worse."

Nicholas sat up, then closed the Bible and set it on top of his nightstand. "Okay. So tell me about it. Please. What's different?"

"I think it's a bunch of things that make me feel so bad that I think-" Steve met Nicholas' eyes. "I think about, you know, wanting to make it stop."

Nicholas moved closer to Steve. "What things?"

"All these feelings and memories. It just hurts that damn bad." Steve let his gaze drop back down to the blanket. "Remember when I told you part of me still feels ashamed?"

Nicholas leaned forward and rested a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I remember. I know you're heard this before, but you don't have anything to be ashamed of. Nothing that happened was ever your fault."

"You know what? I actually do know that. I don't feel so much like" Steve stopped, swallowing, as he touched Nicholas' hand that was still on his shoulder, squeezing it. "being abused like that was my fault anymore. But I mean, Clara was a terrible person, right?" He squeezed Nicholas' hand one more time, then let go. "So what's that mean for me?"

"She was, but what do you mean?"

"She was a monster, Dad." Steve felt Nicholas' grip on his shoulder tighten. "She didn't care about me or you. She was a monster, and she touched me!"

"So what do you feel like that means for you, Son? What is worse now?"

"Evie can't be with me or love me because I think about the worst thing that's ever happened to me. How can I think about that when I'm with someone I care about?"

"Because it hurt you, Steve. And that has nothing to do with how you and Evie feel about each other."

"But it's like all of this is part of me! Like _she_ is part of me." Steve stood up, pacing around his dad's bedroom. "It's no wonder Evie kissed that guy. It was probably because, deep down, she doesn't want to be part of this shit. I know because I don't either!"

Nicholas shook his head, listening to Steve's words, his eyes not leaving his son, as he still paced. "She's not part of you at all. Please listen to me."

Steve stopped pacing, his feet in the middle of the bedroom. "She was so bad, such a monster to hurt and confuse me like this. Evie wasn't even there, and she feels like she's a reminder. I was there, and her hands were on me, so what does that say about me?"

Nicholas got to his feet and stood right in front of Steve. "Nothing. That says nothing about you. We've been through this. The only one it says anything about is her. You are not a reminder of what happened. Please don't think of yourself like that. She was an awful person, but that doesn't mean anything for you."

"I'm afraid it does because I feel like I'm connected to her or something, and I can never fix that. I know it's not supposed to say anything about me or who I am, but how can it not when I think about it when I'm with Evie or at all?"

Nicholas gripped both of Steve's arms, locking eyes with his son. "No, you're not connected to her. She's not part of you, no matter what you remember or when."

Steve's voice rose, as he backed away from Nicholas and pulled out of his grasp. "But I was there with her, and she was so close! She touched me and messed with my head so much. I never knew what to think about it or how I should feel. It makes me fuckin' sick inside to remember what I thought sometimes!"

"You didn't know what to think because you were hurting and because you were a kid."

Steve turned around, facing the bedroom wall, as he hid his face behind his hands. "Can we be done with this now, Dad? Please?"

Nicholas went to stand beside Steve and put his arm around his shoulders. "Let me tell you one more thing. Please hear me." He leaned close, keeping his voice soft, as he spoke right into his son's ear. "I know who you are, and it's not tied to her. I know that because you're my son. She could never be part of you because you're part of me."


	24. Chapter 24

Nicholas lit a cigarette, taking a long drag, before exhaling smoke into the night air. As Steve had pointed out recently, when he saw him smoking, he hadn't picked up the habit in years. He wasn't trying to pick it up again, but the taste of a cigarette was an old vice, one that brought a strange sort of relaxation to his mind.

The last time Nicholas smoked, he had just been talking to Samuel, realizing the depths of his friend's grief were something he himself couldn't fathom living through. Tonight, though, had made him go back a few shorts months to a time when he hurled a bottle of whiskey at the wall, as if making the glass shatter into pieces could destroy the truth that he'd just confronted.

Steve had sounded certain to the point of desperation that Clara's abuse somehow left his identity scarred. Nicholas didn't know how to change this conclusion his son had drawn, but there was no doubt in his own mind that Steve had no link to the woman who had abused him. The kind of person she was had nothing to do with his son, and the trauma he went through didn't make him a connection to the past that wouldn't rest. Nicholas hadn't mentioned this to Steve, but he could understand the feeling, even experiencing a sort of empathy, while he listened to his son's inner dialogue. He couldn't imagine the pain of being abused in such a way, but the truth that had made him suddenly hate the taste of alcohol a few months back created what sounded like a similar cluster of questions and turmoil.

Nicholas took an even longer drag off the cigarette, holding his breath for a moment, before letting the smoke pass from his lips. He held the stick between his fingers and glanced down at it, seeing the orange flicker of the tiny flame. He leaned forward against the back porch railing, that small light dangling from his hand in the dark, strings of smoke wafting from it.

Nicholas didn't want to go too far in his contemplation, fearing the possible answers, but he had to wonder how someone could be the kind of person Clara was. Did she not care that her actions were wicked? What created the desire to commit such an offense once, let alone continue in a progressive pattern?

"Why would she want to hurt him, God?" Nicholas asked, as he put the cigarette out. "How can anyone be like that?"

* * *

Steve stood in the garage, a pen in his hand, as he finished the paperwork for a car the owner should be soon on his way to pick up.

"Hey, Steve, everything okay with your family now?"

Steve looked up from the paper and turned around to see Mr. Coleman a few feet away. He blinked, then nodded his head. "Oh. Yes, sir. It's all fine, I think."

"All right. Glad to hear. What happened anyway? You never call out last minute."

Steve picked up the paper he'd been writing on and looked down at it, studying the car and repair information. "Um, just my dad got real sick kinda fast. He needed me at home."

Mr. Coleman nodded. "Well, I'm glad he's feeling better. I just posted the schedule for next week behind the counter. I'll see you Tuesday afternoon."

Steve watched his boss go back inside the station, sighing as he stapled the paperwork together. "Damn. It's not like I could tell him what really happened though."

* * *

Evie sealed the zipper of a sandwich bag, putting it neatly on top of another sandwich that was already in the picnic basket. She added a couple of red apples and a bag of potato chips, before she opened the pantry.

"Looking for something, Evie?" Irene asked, as she tucked her checkbook back into her purse.

"Yeah. That table cloth. The one with the red and white?" Evie reached up higher, finding it on a shelf underneath some boxes. "Found it."

"Going on a picnic, I take it?"

"Yeah." Evie put the checkered cloth in the basket and closed each lid on top. "Steve and me didn't go out or anything last night. So I thought we could have a picnic. Something simple, you know? Just us."

"Sounds nice, honey."

"I feel like going somewhere besides the creek though. We've been there so much lately."

"You could go to a park instead. How about that one with the gazebo and the little walking trail?"

* * *

Steve had just gotten home and was about to go inside when he saw Evie, picnic basket in hand. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

Evie held up the basket. "I wanted to see if you'd like to eat together in the park. We should do something just the two of us."

Steve grinned at her. "Sure. Hang on a minute though. I'll be right back." He went inside, tossing his DX shirt into a laundry basket, before putting on a clean one.

Steve was about to go back out when he thought of his dad. He found a paper and pen, leaving Nicholas a note on the table in the kitchen:

Dad,

Just wanted to let you know I went somewhere with Evie. I didn't want you to worry.

Steve

* * *

Steve and Evie sat side by side, the red and white checkered cloth spread out on the grass underneath them.

Evie closed the lid on the picnic basket that was next to her. "So what should we do now?"

Steve shrugged, glancing at the playground nearby, the sounds of children running and playing filling the fresh air of the park. "I don't know. Staying right here is fine with me."

Evie wrapped her arm around Steve's waist and laid her head against his shoulder, looking at the cloudless blue sky above them, the sun's light mostly hidden behind tall trees. "It's not as nice as sitting outside at night though, you know?"

"I guess." Steve nodded his head toward the gazebo to their left. "There's a trail on the other side of that. Let's take a walk."

* * *

Evie stared at the butterfly that had landed on a tree near where she and Steve were walking. The creature's orange and black wings fluttered, before it took flight once again. She reached for Steve's hand, squeezing it.

Steve walked, Evie holding onto his hand, the sheltering branches of trees spread out above them. He heard the crunch of leaves beneath his feet, as they rounded the bend that led to an area with a small pond at the center, two benches and a picnic table surrounding it.

"It's nice and cool out here, isn't it?" Evie asked.

Steve nodded. "Sure. Hey, you were right about God."

"You mean that he's real?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant that he cares. Some things have happened lately that make me believe that more than I thought I could before."

"I'm glad to hear that, sweetie. Let's go sit by the pond." Evie still held Steve's hand, pulling him along with her, as she crossed the patch of ground to the area next to the water. She sat down on the bench, looking at the brown leaves that floated along the pond, a gentle breeze making them swirl around.

Steve sat next to Evie, but remained on the edge of the wooden bench. He looked at her, as she was watching a cardinal pass over the pond, its wings almost touching the water. "Evie, what are we doing?"

Evie stared at the red bird, seeing it fly away, before she turned her eyes to Steve. "What do you mean?"

"I mean us, our relationship. What are we doing?"

Evie let go of Steve's hand, the earnestness of his tone, with no hint of accusation or anger, pouring over her. "Just our best, I guess."

* * *

"I don't think I've ever played anything besides 'Go Fish'", Suzie said, looking at the cards in her hand. "How do I know how many points any of these are worth?"

"Just practice, I guess," Soda said. "I don't remember not knowing."

Suzie smiled, as Soda set his own cards down and scooted over to be right next to her. "You just want an excuse to be close to me."

"I ain't arguing." Soda slid an arm around Suzie's shoulders and pointed to the King of hearts she held. "That's worth ten points." He pointed to a nine of clubs. "That's worth five."

Suzie turned her head, her lips meeting Soda's. She leaned into the kiss for a moment, before pulling away and looking into his eyes. "How much is that worth?"

Soda smiled. "Everything, babe.

* * *

Nicholas picked up Steve's note, quickly reading the short message. He sighed, setting it back down, as a stab of guilt started in his chest and radiated into his stomach. He'd been feeling pangs of his old shame and regret for the last couple of days, his resolve to forgive himself shaky with the passage of time and in the face of Steve's continued struggles.

The rich irony in Nicholas' mind was that his son's pain was what made him the most certain he had to keep giving himself grace, yet it also held the power to weaken his determination. He'd known the talk with Samuel and both their prayers were only a step, an essential one, but a beginning nonetheless. He reminded himself to let go, to let God have it, his emotions still vulnerable to the prison of self-blame.

Nicholas dropped into a chair and laid his head on the table. "Don't let me give up, God. It won't make me feel better. It won't make Steve do any better either. Please help me keep choosing to forgive myself, even when I feel like there's no way I can."

* * *

Grace pulled the still-warm laundry out of the dryer. The scents of detergent and fabric softener wafted into her nose, as she hugged the clean fleece blankets to her chest. Even as she breathed in the freshness, she thought of the time she'd gone into the guest bedroom, only to find a blanket soaked in blood.

_ Grace froze, holding her breath, as she took in the scene in front of her. Her heart beat in horror, staring at Clara's closed eyes, blood pouring down both of her arms. Her own wide eyes drifted to the carpeted floor, where a knife lay, its glint still sharp, even while blood covered the blade._

_ Grace forced herself to go toward Clara, checking to see if she could possibly be breathing. Finding that she wasn't, she pressed her fingers to the other woman's wrist, blood seeping onto them. She felt an ever-fading pulse, before she rushed to the phone to call 911._

But Clara's heartbeat hadn't lasted long enough for the emergency call to stop the life from draining out of her body.

* * *

Nicholas felt his pondering of self-blame and remnants of yet to be completely resolved guilt melt into a need to take any kind of action. Steve hadn't told him about a single other temptation, any other thing that his impulses pushed him toward. But he hadn't know himself until the moment he pulled the pills from the medicine cabinet.

Nicholas hadn't experienced the feelings and thoughts Steve was, but he didn't have to in order to know overdosing on medication wasn't the only way someone could act on a suicidal impulse. This was one reason fear had stricken him so instantly when Steve called him at work. He hadn't thought of medication as anything possible dangerous, so what else was there?

Nicholas let his mind venture into territory much darker than that of his own guilt, scenarios of tragedy going through his thoughts. He found himself wandering around the house, in search of anything Steve could come across while in the grips of these thoughts of death, of doing something that, in a quest to stop the pain, could end his life.

* * *

Grace spread one of the fleece blankets out over the bed she shared with David. She tucked it under the edges of the mattress, then ran her hands over it, smoothing out the wrinkles. As much as she wanted to, she didn't know exactly what had led to the tragic scene in her guest bedroom. She only knew what Clara told her, which didn't seem like it could be the whole story, in light of the way her life had ended.

_Grace peered through her screen door, seeing Clara in the darkness of the late hour. She let her friend inside, noticing she wore only a yellow nightgown._

_ Clara's face was covered in tears, as she tried to explain. "I lost my Christopher and my Nathan, and now, I've lost them too."_

_ Grace guided Clara to a chair, making her sit down. "Lost who? What are you talking about?"_

Grace remembered listening to Clara talk about Christopher and Nathan months before that night, one of the times they'd met in a cafe not far from Grace's house. They'd had little in common, except for showing up at the same little place on the same day a few times a week to order blueberry muffins and a hot cup of coffee. But, somehow, they'd ended up talking and struck up a sort of friendship.

_Clara refused to meet Grace's eyes, as she talked, her voice still riddled with tears. "Nicholas kicked me out. We had an argument, but he was overreacting. He actually thinks I hurt Steve."_

_ Grace stared at her friend, unsure what to say. "You can stay here. It's no problem. But what happened? Why would he think that?"_

_ "He just reminded me so much of Christopher. That's all. I only want to love and be loved back. I could never hurt a sweet, innocent child."_

_ "What does he think you did?"_

_ Clara sighed, wiping her eyes, as she pursed her lips. "I'd never do a thing like that."_

* * *

Nicholas stirred the cup of coffee he'd made, not caring it was far from morning. He had done what he could, attempting to build a hedge of protection by stashing away anything he could imagine being dangerous. He realized, though he hated to acknowledge it, that ultimately, he couldn't stop Steve from hurting himself. Still, he would do as much as was possible within the house they shared. Yet, the best things he could do remained the same, and those were to be there to listen, say some prayers, and remind Steve he was so loved, all while trying to trust his son would always come to him when he needed help.

Nicholas was beyond grateful that Steve called him when he felt so bad this last time, but it failed to escape his notice that his son had still searched for the pills. He had been trying to focus on the fact that he knew they were gone, but that didn't change the fact that Steve had believed they were there somewhere. Nicholas looked back at the memory of him in the throes of visible pain and tears, while he explained what happened, feeling it sear his heart again. To sound the way he did, so scared and broken, Steve must've believed that if he had the chance, he would've actually harmed himself.

* * *

Grace set the decorative plates, one by one, in the little glass cabinet. She put each of them carefully in its holder, lining them up so they were creating a pattern of flowers and color. She closed the cabinet door, finding her head still traveled several years back into the past.

She hadn't known exactly what transpired with Clara's son or husband prior to the night she'd shown up in tears. She still didn't know all the details, even years later, believing now that the story seemed odd, coupled with the rest of what she did know. At first, Clara had simply said Nathan left, taking Christopher with him, claiming some sort of disagreement. Not wanting to cause the woman any more pain with the pressure of questions, Grace had let it be. If Clara wanted to tell her, she would when she decided to do so.

Grace had no reason not to believe Clara when she said she did nothing wrong the night she came over, upset over the fight with Nicholas. Yet, she'd begun to have her doubts once her friend spoke of her husband and child once again.

_Clara shook her head, still not looking at Grace. "Nathan never should've taken Christopher away from me. I was a good mother, who showed only love. Even if he did only want to keep him safe, I miss him so."_

_ Grace felt a frown cross her face. "Why wouldn't he have been safe?"_

_ Clara narrowed her eyes, her voice hardening. "Because of my father. He's the one who made me lose my son. He did something terrible, not me. I would never do a thing like that."_

It was then Grace had to wonder what made, not just one, but two men, push Clara out of their lives and away from their children. What kind of trouble was happening here? Still, she'd made up the bed in the guest bedroom, not having any idea there could never be much in the way of answers or resolutions.

* * *

"Steve, you and Evie should double with us again sometime," Suzie said, as she pulled her purse over her shoulder. "I better be going. I'll see you later, Soda."

Soda kissed Suzie's cheek. "All right."

Suzie winked at him. "Don't forget to let me know when your brother lets you off the hook."

"I'll ask him about next weekend," Soda said, watching Suzie wave, as she walked away. He turned to Steve. "How are you and Evie?"

"I don't know, man. About the same, I guess. Hey, before I forget, just in case it comes up, I told Coleman my dad got real sick."

"What? Why?"

Steve turned around, meeting Soda's eyes. "I mean instead of telling him the real reason I couldn't come to work a couple of days ago."

"Oh."

"I might as well spit this out, while I got the chance too. I wouldn't say it around Suzie, maybe not even around Evie."

"Say what?"

"I don't think I want to go on any more double dates right now. I don't mean just with you and Suzie either. I mean at all."

"I know I'm saying this a lot today, but what?"

"It was uncomfortable for me, man. It's not something I like admitting, but it'd be dumb to lie to you about that after... Everything else."

"Damn, I'm confused. Back up, Stevie. What was uncomfortable?"

"Me and Evie are in this place where we can hardly even act like a couple, you know? I mean physically." Steve saw Soda start to speak and held up a hand. "Hang on. Let me finish. So it felt weird for me because you and Suzie- Well, you're definitely not like that."

"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry. We don't have to be like that though."

"Oh, yeah, _that'd_ make me real comfortable. My buddy and his girl can't be all over each other cause _I _feel weird around it."

"You could've told me then, you know."

"I didn't want you apologizing or feeling bad for being normal, Sodapop."

Soda stared down at his feet, sighing, then looked back up at Steve, his eyebrow raising. "Me? Normal?"

Steve cracked a smile. "Yeah, I can't believe I said it either."

* * *

"Soda, turn that off!"

At the sound of Darry's voice, Soda startled, then noticed the pot of water beginning to boil over. He turned the burner off, moving the pot to the other side of the stove. "Sorry. Didn't see it."

"You were looking right at it," Darry said. "Hey, is there anything you want to do for your birthday next week?"

"I don't think so. You know I'm happy with anything, Dar. I was wanting to ask you something though. Would it be okay for me to take Suzie out next weekend?"

Darry drew closer to Soda, intent eyes meeting his brother's. "Can I trust you to be home when you're supposed to be?"

Soda nodded. "Yeah. I promise."

Darry kept his gaze locked with Soda's. "And nothing crazy or reckless?"

Soda nodded once more. "No trouble. I swear."

* * *

"You okay, Dad?" Steve asked.

Nicholas ran a hand down the side of his face, then cupped it under his chin. He sighed, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch. "Just been thinking too much. Have a good time with Evie?"

"As good of a time as you can, having a picnic and taking a walk in the park, I guess."

"Sounds nice enough."

"It makes me wish our relationship could be a walk in the park."

"You still not sure if you're going to be able to stay together?"

"Nah, I just said that because everything's peachy, Dad."

Nicholas lifted his head up, eyeing Steve. "Hey! No reason to get smart. I was just asking."

Steve closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest, as he looked back at Nicholas. "Sorry. It just really hurts."

"It's okay, Son. I know it does."

Steve laid his head against Nicholas' shoulder. "Thank you."

Nicholas slid an arm around Steve, rubbing his back. "I think it takes more than one sarcastic remark to get me too upset."

Steve smirked, but stayed close to Nicholas. "Not for that. I mean for being here. For coming home when I called."

Nicholas gave Steve a squeeze, leaning his head on top of his son's. "Of course."


	25. Chapter 25

Nicholas yawned, as he padded into the kitchen, pausing when he saw Steve. His son sat in a chair, his head on the table, soft snores coming from him.

Nicholas put a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "Hey, Son, this doesn't look too comfortable."

Steve groaned, as his eyes fluttered open, the morning sun suddenly too bright. He squinted, lifting his head from the table, then focused on his dad. "How'd I get here?"

"I don't know. Must be sleepwalking again. I didn't hear you this time though."

Steve stretched his arms above his head and stood up. "Man, that's crazy."

Nicholas poured himself a cup of orange juice and took a swallow. "I'm going to make some breakfast, then go get dressed. Anything you want?"

"French toast, maybe?"

"Sounds good."

Steve sat back down, watching Nicholas begin gathering the ingredients to make their breakfast. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Steve looked down at his hands, hesitating for a few seconds. "Um, do you think it would be okay if I came to church with you?"

Nicholas looked up from the egg he was cracking on the side of a glass bowl. "Of course. It's more than okay, Son."

* * *

Steve closed the hymnal and set it down in the holder in front of him. As he watched Samuel close the lid over the piano keys, he felt a brief moment of recognition. Not sure where he may have seen this man's face before, he took his seat on the pew beside Nicholas, scooting closer to his dad.

Nicholas leaned over, whispering. "You okay, Son?"

Steve nodded, whispering back. "Sure. Just feels kind of weird. I remember coming here with you and mom sometimes."

Nicholas patted Steve's leg, before turning his attention back to the front of the church. He listened, as Pastor David made a few announcements, then asked Samuel to come up to the podium.

Steve leaned toward Nicholas, his voice still a whisper. "So that's Samuel."

Nicholas nodded, turning the pages in his Bible as Samuel told the congregation to join him in the book of John.

Steve listened to Samuel read John 3:16, then go on to explain the scripture. Then, he found his gaze drifting over to the pew to his left that was right in front of the altar. Pastor David was there, seated next to a woman Steve assumed must be his wife. Why does something about her seem familiar? he wondered.

Before Steve could ponder the question further, Samuel's voice broke into his thoughts, as he continued his message that centered on the reason Jesus came into the world:

"God sent Jesus to rescue us from sin because it was the only way for us to be reconciled to him, to have spiritual healing and peace."

Samuel referenced another scripture, and Steve looked at the Bible in his dad's lap, seeing him turn from Matthew to Isaiah, as the message continued:

"Jesus died because of sin, the source of all evil and the ultimate cause of every kind of human suffering. He suffered, carrying the sin and the pain. He hurt more than any of us could ever imagine. Jesus felt the horrific physical pain from the wounds on his body, the sorrow, the grief, the rejection, and the despair."

Steve looked up from his dad's Bible, watching Samuel pace around, as he talked:

"But Jesus didn't go through all of that because he had to! No, he did it because he loved people. He loved us. He still loves us today, and he cares about every part of our lives."

* * *

Samuel held his hand out for Steve to shake. "It's good to finally meet you, Steve."

Steve shook the offered hand. "So you're the preacher guy my dad keeps talking about."

Nicholas frowned. "Steve!"

Samuel laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not offended. It's the truth, after all." He leaned closer to Steve, lowering his voice. "But you're going to have to tell me what he's been saying about me."

Steve rolled his eyes and chuckled, just as Pastor David and his wife approached them.

Nicholas stood beside Steve. "This is my son. He decided to come with me today."

Steve and Pastor David shook hands, then his wife introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Grace."

Steve took the offered hand, his eyes meeting Grace's, the sting of familiarity so strong, he couldn't speak. He nodded, before releasing her hand. As she walked away, following Pastor David, Steve kept watching her. He felt the wheels turning in his mind, but was still unable to identify the reason for the flash of familiarity or the growing knot of tension spreading in his body.

* * *

"So I went to church with my dad this morning," Steve said, as he tossed the basketball to Soda.

Soda laughed, shooting the ball toward the goal and watching it bounce off the hoop.

Steve scowled. "Why is that funny, man?"

Soda still smiled, as he retrieved the bouncing ball. "Sorry, Stevie. It's not. It just made me remember the time me, you, and TwoBit went to church with Pony and Johnny.

"Oh! I forgot about that."

"If you asked him, Pony would still say you dropped that hymn book on purpose!"

Steve laughed, catching the ball Soda threw to him. "I'm sure, but I swear it was an accident!"

"Man, we were all goofing off so much, it's no wonder Pony and Johnny were embarrassed."

Steve shot the ball into the basket. "Damn, I was too when everyone turned around and stared at us like that!"

"Not me. I even laughed then. I couldn't help it with the looks on their faces!"

Steve dribbled the ball, grinning. "Remind me not to take you to church."

"So what was it like today?"

"It was okay, I guess. I think I liked it. It wasn't real boring or anything like that."

Soda caught the ball Steve bounced over to him. "I bet your dad liked you coming with him."

"Yeah, I think he did. Maybe I even will again. I don't know yet."

* * *

Soda walked beside Steve on the way to the Randles' house, the basketball under his arm. "Hey, you look like you're sweating bullets. It's not even hot."

Steve put a hand to his temple. "I am. But I don't know why. I feel kind of funny too. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Funny? Like dizzy or something?"

"No. More like I'm not really here."

"So where are you then?"

"Hell if I know. Not anywhere I want to be."

* * *

"I'll be back in a minute, Soda!" Steve put a wash cloth under the cold running water, then held it to his face. He let the coolness soak into his skin, before looking into the mirror. "Damn it, what's wrong with me? Nothing ever feels like this." He pressed his face into the wet cloth, his hands shaking.

"Feeling all right there, Son?"

Steve looked toward his dad. "Not sure. My head hurts, and I feel weird, almost like I'm dreaming or something."

"Maybe you should go lie down."

Steve shrugged, setting the wash cloth down next to the sink. "I don't know." He started to follow Nicholas down the hall, but paused when he felt tension gather in his shoulders and neck. He massaged them with his hand, then went back to the living room, where he'd left Soda.

Soda had several cards on the coffee table, arranging them to stand against one another. "Hey, Steve, I'm building a house of cards."

Steve shot him a half-smile. "What? Playing a game ain't good enough for you now?" He sat next to Soda on the couch and picked up a card, about to set it on top of what his friend had already put together. He stopped, the card still in his hand, when he felt a weight settle in his chest.

Soda looked over at Steve. "Doesn't really matter where you put it, man."

Steve put the card down on the table, blinking rapidly, as he shook his head. "It's not that."

Nicholas peeked in from the kitchen. "You boys want some lunch. I made some-" His eyes landed on Steve. "What's going on, Son?"

Steve didn't look at Nicholas, his eyes wide, as he stared across the room. "I don't know, Dad."

Nicholas came and sat on Steve's other side, perching on the arm of the couch. "You feel worse now?"

Soda shared a look with Nicholas, as he stacked all of the cards, then put the deck on the coffee table. "You look scared, Stevie."

Steve nodded, his voice quiet. "But I don't know why."

Nicholas put his hand on Steve's shoulder, leaning a little closer. "Look at me, Son."

Steve's eyes drifted down to his hands that were shaking, as his stomach ached from tying itself in knots. A pang of sadness pierced him, the weight on his chest growing heavier.

Nicholas squeezed Steve's shoulder. "You look like you're caught in a flashback."

"Is that what you meant earlier when you said you felt like you weren't really here?" Soda asked.

Steve shook his head, moving closer to the edge of the couch, his eyes refusing to look at Soda or Nicholas. "No. I don't know what's wrong. I really don't."

"What are you thinking about?" Nicholas asked.

Steve stood up, crossing the room, as a sudden spark of guilt, a flicker threatening to unravel the mystery, touched his heart. "I don't know."

* * *

"I know it sounds strange, but it was like I had all the feelings from a flashback, but without the memories," Steve said.

"It's not strange, Steve," Laura said. "Those emotions are part of the memories too."

"I didn't mention this part to my dad because it really is crazy, but this woman at the church seemed like she made me remember something. But I don't see how. That was when I first started to feel off yesterday."

Laura nodded. "Triggers can be very complicated. There are many things that could have reminded you of something from the past."

Steve shrugged, shaking his head. "But I don't even know what I was thinking about. I just know she seemed familiar, and it made me kind of nervous. I couldn't figure it out though. She's the pastor's wife. That's all."

"Earlier you said you decided to go to church with your dad because you thought it could help after the week you had. What's been happening?"

* * *

"What are you doing home already?" Soda asked.

"Nice to see you too, little buddy," Darry said, as he took his tool belt off.

Soda pulled a beer from the refrigerator, then opened it. "Aw, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know." Darry nodded toward the can. "I wasn't kidding when I told you take it easy with that."

"It's just a beer, Dar."

"But you usually don't drink very often. Or by yourself, for that matter."

"Okay. I'll give you that one. But it's not like I'm out getting drunk or anything. Just trying to relax.

"I know. I hear you. I just want you to hear me too."

Soda drew closer to Darry, taking a swallow of beer, as he peered at his brother's head.

"What are you doing?"

Soda grinned at Darry. "Searching for gray hairs. You keep worrying so much, and you'll have a head full of them before you're 25."

* * *

Steve avoided Laura's gaze, his voice trembling. "I really think I would've done it too if I had found them." He paused, swallowing. "I just felt so twisted up inside. I might've done anything to make it stop."

"What made you stop looking and call your dad?" Laura asked.

"I kept remembering how I told him I'd call if I needed him, and it scared me so bad. It was like one minute, I wanted to die and then the next, I just wanted help."

"Have you had the suicidal thoughts since that day?"

"Yeah. Not like that though. Not so bad, I think I'm about to self-destruct. My dad got me to talk to him about some of the stuff I was thinking. It was hard because I want to believe what he told me, but I can't yet."

"What did he tell you?"

"That Clara isn't part of me, that I'm not connected to her. I feel like I must be, like the person she was has to mean something for me too."

"But what could it mean? You didn't choose to be abused, Steve. Why would she be part of you?"

Steve leaned back in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh and blinking back tears. "Because I didn't stop it. I know I couldn't have, but she was touching me and all over me. And now, I can't ever get it out of my head."

"You think because you keep remembering the abuse, that affects who you are?"

Steve clenched his eyes shut for a moment, as he nodded. "Yes! It has to because I was there with her, and she wouldn't leave me alone."

"What does it mean for you that you were there with her?"

Steve rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and placed his forehead against the palm of his hand, a tear slipping down his cheek. "It means I'm like a piece to the past I can't ever get rid of. It's like she ruined me, so I can't ever make this shame go away. She was terrible to me, and I hated her for hurting me." He lifted his head, looking at Laura. "But I swear all I wanted was for her to stop. Can we please be done now?"

* * *

"It's fine if you need to go back to work, Dad," Steve said, facing the window, his head resting against the car seat.

Nicholas pulled into the driveway and shifted the car into park. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't want you missing more time just because of me anyway."

Nicholas sighed and turned the car off, pulling the key out of the ignition. "_Just _because of you?"

"Yeah. You didn't have to come today."

"You're right. I didn't. But I wanted to." Nicholas touched the back of Steve's head. "I know you had some tough stuff to tell Laura."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Like always lately."

"That's okay, Son. It's what she does."

"But sometimes, I feel like it doesn't help." Steve turned his head to look at Nicholas. "I remember telling you I felt broken before."

"Yeah. I remember that too."

"But you, Soda and Evie, and even Laura too, made me feel less broken."

"So what about now?"

"Broken isn't the right word. It's more like damaged."

"But you're not. No matter what's in your head or what you remember."

Steve opened the car door, sighing. "Just go back to work, Dad. Please."

"What are you going to do?"

Steve turned back to his dad. "Nothing. I'm fine. You can't be with me all the time. No one can. Soda will probably come over here anyway. You know that."

"That's true." Nicholas met Steve's eyes and reached for his hand. "But listen to me."

"I know, Dad. I'll call you, or I'll call Soda, or go over there. I promise. If I need somebody, I won't wait."

* * *

"Hey, Stevie! You home?" Soda shouted.

Steve turned a page in his math book, writing down a solution. "You don't have to be so loud, Sodapop!"

Soda appeared in Steve's bedroom doorway, a smile on his face. "Yes, I do!"

"Why are you such a goof?"

"Cause I have to be."

"I knew you'd come over. My dad was worried about leaving me here." Steve put his pencil down and closed the math book.

Soda sat down next to Steve, his face growing more serious. "Yeah. I'm sure he would be."

"It seems like going to counseling just keeps making me feel even worse. I asked Laura if we could stop a little early today because of that."

"So did you stop earlier?"

"Yeah. I've gotten pretty good with being able to talk through stuff, but there are some things lately..." Steve trailed off, then put his math book in his backpack.

"That probably means you're getting somewhere, buddy."

"But it's like even though I don't mean to do it, a wall goes up, and I know there's more I want to say, but I can't."

"You will when you're ready. I think you've been through that before, right?"

"You remember when I had that flashback, and it was storming out?"

Soda glanced at Steve's window. "I could never forget it."

"Well, I haven't broken anything. Not yet anyway. But I start to feel like I did that night. Real angry."

Soda put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If it's like it was then, that probably means there's still stuff you need to get out. You hadn't talked about much at all yet then."

"That's true. But now, I'm not even always sure what it is I'm trying to say."

* * *

Soda sat on the porch swing, a beer in his hand, as he stared at the moon. "Dar, do you think there's really a man in the moon?"

"I doubt it, little buddy," Darry said.

Soda giggled, his head falling on Darry's shoulder. "You're funny."

"How many drinks have you had?"

Soda shrugged and lifted his head up to look at Darry, still smiling. "Just a few. I ain't drunk. Just happy."

Darry rolled his eyes. "Uh hu. No more, Sodapop. You got work in the morning."

Soda laughed again. "I'm Sodapop, but I ain't high off of it! I like beer and beer likes me."

Darry chuckled. "It just makes you goofier."

Soda's words started to slur, his hand gripping his chin in thought. "That's the second time I've been called that today."

"I can't say I'm surprised."

Soda peered at Darry's head, then pointed his finger. "I see a gray hair!"

"Can't say I'm surprised at that either."

* * *

"Sorry if I snapped at you earlier, Dad," Steve said. "Counseling has been kind of hard lately."

Nicholas pulled a t-shirt over his head, then tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. "It's okay. I know it has. And you didn't snap. You're right that I can't be with you all the time."

"I was telling Laura some stuff, and I started to get angry. It was pretty much the same thing me and you talked about the other night."

Nicholas nodded, sitting down on his bed. "Okay. You want to talk about it any more?"

Steve shook his head. "No, I just wanted you to know I had to stop with her too. It wasn't you or anything you said."

"Thanks, Son. I didn't think it was though. I'm not upset if it's too hard for you to talk about something."

"I guess I need you to know that I really want to believe what you told me too. I want you to be right."

* * *

Soda stared at the sky, his head resting on the back of the swing. "Dar, you ever wonder why God thought the sky needed lights in it?"

"Can't say I've thought about it."

"I wonder what Mom and Dad are doing up there."

Darry smiled. "Whatever people do in Heaven, I guess."

Soda turned his head to look at his brother, his eyes glassy. "You think they're watching?"

"Maybe. I like to think so."

"There are so many bad things that happen in the world."

Darry put his arm over Soda's shoulders. "Sure, little buddy."

"But I wonder why some things happen to some people, but not others. Even when they could have." Soda paused, looking at the sky again. "Even when you're both right there."

"I guess a few beers makes you get all philosophical, huh?"

"Do you ever think about what it would be like it you could go back in time?"

"That sounds like something Pony would have an answer for."

"I have one too. I know what I would do. I would go back. I would fix all of this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I would fix it. I would stop it. Then, it couldn't happen to either of us."

"What couldn't happen to who?"

Soda laid his head on Darry's shoulder, leaning against him. "Nothing. But I would. Then, I wouldn't feel bad, and I wouldn't have to be sad over what would've happened if I was late."

* * *

Steve stood on the front porch, his elbows resting on the railing, as he stared at the stars scattered across the dark sky. "So you got me, God. I believe you care."

He sat down on the steps, his eyes still on the sky. "I have to be honest here. It's nice to know you care and even to think you love me. But I still don't feel any better. So what else is there?"

Steve leaned back against the post next to the steps and stretched his legs out. "If you really know what pain is like, how bad it hurts" He closed his eyes. "then that means you have to know how much I can't stand to keep feeling it."

* * *

Grace looked at her sleeping husband's face, before turning over again and pulling the blankets tighter around herself. She closed her eyes, letting her head sink into the pillow and hoping for slumber to come.

In a whispering voice, she said a prayer. "I don't want to think about it, God. Why should I even remember that? I'll never know what happened anyway. I'll never know why."

* * *

Steve forced his eyes open, the clock with its glowing red numbers staring back at him. He looked around his bedroom, the darkness nearly closing in on him, as the images of the nightmare lived on, despite the fact that he was now awake, that his mind had to comprehend it hadn't been real.

Steve reached over and turned on his lamp, as he focused on breathing. He looked around the room again, the small glow of light helping him build a sense of reassurance. "Why am I dreaming that?" he mumbled. "I never dream about that anymore."

Steve slid out of his bed, unable to stop the pictures that circled in his mind or ease the crushing burden of fear and pain they brought with them. "No wonder I was screaming that one night."

* * *

Steve drove his car toward the DX that was just a little farther down the road. "Well, at least you're a funny drunk."

"I wasn't really drunk," Soda said, from his place in the passenger seat. "Just a little too happy. I was asking Darry these crazy questions."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something about the moon and God. I was just saying whatever came into my head."

Steve pulled into the parking lot of the DX, coming to a stop. "I know if I drink enough, I start saying stuff I normally wouldn't."

Soda nodded, his hand on the door handle. "Yeah, I definitely did that."

* * *

Steve watched Mrs. Patterson begin writing several equations, chalk tapping against the board, as she formed each number and letter. He picked up his pencil, copying the first problem down on notebook paper: 2(x+3)=(4x-1)/2+7

While Mrs. Patterson continued to write, Steve's thoughts wandered back to the nightmare that had pulled him away from sleep. But it didn't happen like that, he thought. I just wanted her to stop. He heard the tapping of chalk and snapped back to the present, copying down more of the equations he had to do for homework.

Steve moved the pencil along the lines of the paper, trying to focus, as he heard Mrs. Patterson's voice. But even as he wrote, the numbers and letters creating each problem, he couldn't hear the teacher anymore.

As the tapping of the chalk continued, Steve heard Clara's threateningly sweet voice. He could feel her hands wandering further down, her lips on his face. He closed his eyes, trying not to fall farther into the memory of her tight grip on his wrists, pulling him closer to her, forcing him to do as she said.

The bell rang, and Steve didn't move. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped. "Don't touch me!"

"Hey, take it easy."

Steve met the gaze of the classmate, who had tapped him on the shoulder, allowing only a second to pass before he grabbed his book and notebook, hurrying out the classroom door.

* * *

Steve pressed his back against the brick building, letting his things fall to the ground, as he dropped onto the grass. This can't keep happening, he thought, as he pulled his knees to his chest. I can't take it.

He fought against the tears that tried to fall, hiding his face. But he couldn't stop them, the memories too overwhelming, the shame too much, even though he knew no one at the school could see the past he longed to stop reliving.

He turned his head, fresh tears still on his face, as he took in his surroundings. He'd gone out the closest door, knowing only that he needed to get away from the crowds of students heading to their last class for the day. There was only grass and sky out here, an area just outside a hallway door.

Steve breathed in the fresh air, letting his head rest against the building, then he looked up. "God, I've had enough. I don't want to do this anymore."

* * *

"I'm fine, Evie," Steve said, as he stood next to his car. "I'm just tired. I barely made it through class."

"Would you tell me if you weren't fine?" Evie asked, taking a step closer to Steve and cupping his cheek. "You really don't look like you feel well."

Steve put his hand over Evie's. "I don't, but I'm trying to be better." But it's not working, he thought. It's never enough.

"What's going on, sweetie?"

Steve let go of Evie's hand and shook his head. "I have to go. I need to get to work."

Evie leaned forward and kissed Steve's cheek. "Remember I love you. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Steve sat in his car in front of his house. He pulled out his wallet, opening it up, then slid the plan he'd made with Laura out and unfolded it, the words on the page so familiar. Gripping the paper with his fingers, he ripped it down the middle. "I can't, God. You have to do something here. I'm so tired."

Steve ripped the paper once more and let the pieces fall from his hands. "If it's not ever going to get better, just take me." He touched his cheek, still able to feel a hint of wetness from the tears he'd cried on the way here. But his eyes were dry now.

* * *

Soda picked up the phone behind the counter of the DX, dialing Steve's number. He locked eyes with Darry, who was out in the parking lot, as he listened to the line ring several times. "Come on, Stevie. Pick up. You should've been here half an hour ago."

Sighing, Soda hung up the phone, fighting the fear that something could be wrong. He looked out the window again, wanting to believe Steve's car could show up any minute.

* * *

Nicholas closed the door to the stock room, as one of his coworkers was picking up the ringing phone. He paused, as the other man's eyes met his own and held the receiver out to him, his voice serious. "Nicholas. It's for you. It's your son."

Nicholas rushed forward, taking the receiver in a tight grip. "Steve?"

Steve's voice came through the line, his tone panicked. "Dad, I did something I shouldn't have. My stomach hurts so bad."

* * *

"Sodapop, you can go," Mr. Coleman said. "Thanks for staying. Let me know if you hear from Steve, please."

Soda opened the door to leave, his heart pounding. "Yes, sir. I will." He turned and ran to Darry's truck, jumping in the passenger side.

Darry gripped Soda's shoulder. "Little buddy, you don't know anything is wrong."

Soda's eyes were wide, as he grabbed his brother's arm. "Something has to be."

* * *

Steve leaned over the toilet, his stomach overwhelmed with nausea. He vomited, tears also slipping down his face, as he sobbed.

His eyes were closed when he felt Nicholas' hands on his shaking shoulders and heard his voice. "Son, what happened? What do I need to do?"

Steve laid his head against the toilet seat, feeling his dad's hands tightening their hold on him. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, the nausea not relieved. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be like this. It hurts."

Nicholas put his hand under Steve's chin and lifted it up, his desperation growing, as he drew closer and met his son's eyes. "What did you do?"

"I don't feel good, Dad. Please help. I'm sorry I did it." Steve turned, vomiting again. "I don't want to die. I want to stay."

* * *

"Try to stay calm, little buddy," Darry said, as he stopped the truck in front of the Randles' house.

Soda bolted out of his seat, not even pausing to shut the door. He ran up to the house and went inside. "Steve! Are you here?"

Soda went through the house, his eyes looking all around it, as he searched each room. He shook his head, running back outside before yelling. "Dar, they're not here!"

"Let's just go home, Pepsi Cola. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."

* * *

Nicholas sank down against the wall in the corner of the emergency waiting room, the full weight of what had just transpired falling upon him with undeniable power. He put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat, making life flow through him. He knew that his own life would've ended with Steve's, that he could not longer bear to breathe without his son by his side.

Nicholas felt tears pour down his face, realizing they couldn't even portray the pain radiating throughout his soul. No cry, no expression of grief or sorrow could do justice to the hurt that ran so deep, he was certain it was as much a part of him now, as the blood flowing through his veins.

* * *

Pony sat down next to Soda on the couch, though his brother's eyes never left the phone across the room that had yet to ring. "Hey, I bet everything's okay."

Soda turned and wrapped his arms around Pony, hanging onto him and trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I hope you're right, little brother."

Pony hugged him back, feeling Soda lean on him. "I know I don't know everything that's going on, but I know how worried you've been. I know Steve's tough too."

"I can't stand it, Pone. I know something's not right." Soda closed his eyes, resting his head on Pony's shoulder, a simple prayer coming from his lips. "Please, God. Please."

* * *

Nicholas sat in a chair next to Steve's hospital bed, holding onto his son's hand with both of his own. He saw his eyes blink open and look around, then spoke softly. "You're okay, Stevie. Just rest."

Steve felt Nicholas' hand on his cheek and leaned into the touch, his voice weak as he spoke. "I'm sorry I gave up. Please still love me, Dad."

Nicholas drew closer to Steve and kissed his forehead, then pushed his hair back off his face. "I'll always love you. You're going to be okay."

"I don't really want to die. I swear I want to live." Steve's voice grew hoarse and thick with unshed tears, as he started to feel the sharp edge of panic cut through him. "I just snapped today and couldn't take it anymore. Please believe me."

Nicholas slid his arms around Steve, careful not to disturb the IV in his hand that was hooked to a bag of fluids. He laid his head against his son's shoulder. "Shh. You're still here with me." He felt Steve relax beneath the touch. "I believe you, and I'm not mad at you. We'll talk when you're feeling better. You need to rest, Son."

Nicholas stayed close to Steve, as he drifted back to sleep. He closed his own eyes. Thank God you still called for help in time, he thought. Thank God you're alive. Because I could never say goodbye.

* * *

Darry kneeled down next to Soda, who was fast asleep on the couch. He shook his shoulder, gently rousing him from slumber. "Little buddy, I have to talk to you."

Soda blinked his eyes, looking at Darry, yawning, as he sat up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Darry sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay. You're tired. I didn't want to wake you." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to tell his little brother. "But Steve's dad called."

"What? I didn't even hear the phone ring. Why would his dad call?" Soda started to stand, but Darry held onto his arm. "Darry, what happened?"

"First, you need to know Steve's going to be okay."

Soda nodded. "Then, where is he? What's going on?"

"Nicholas called because Steve is in the hospital. He thought you should know." Darry stopped, not letting go of his brother. "He's going to be fine. You got that?"

Soda's eyes grew wider. "Tell me he didn't, Dar. Please. Maybe there was an accident. Maybe-"

Darry moved his hand to Soda's shoulder. "Sodapop, he overdosed. And it made him very sick, but he called Nicholas not that long after. He took him to the hospital."

Soda stared at Darry, a cold fear shooting through him, even as the urge to deny what he was hearing grew stronger. "No, he wasn't supposed to do that. It wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to hurt himself."

"Listen to me. He's okay. Nicholas got him help in time."

Soda shook, as he got to his feet. "No. No, Darry. You're wrong. Nicholas is wrong. Steve was trying- He wouldn't."

Darry came to stand in front of Soda, holding his face in his hands. "We're not wrong, little buddy. It wasn't as bad as it could've been, from what Nicholas told me. But Steve did take too much of some medication."

Soda lifted a hand, wrapping his fingers around Darry's wrist, as he closed his eyes against tears. "But he's going to be okay? Is he awake?"

Darry felt tears prick his own eyes at the sadness he could hear in Soda's voice. "He's resting. He got very sick, but he was conscious. He's going to be all right. I need you to hear that."

Soda's knees buckled, and he felt Darry's arms hold him, breaking his fall, as he dropped to the floor. He fell against his big brother's chest, weeping for the pain his best friend kept going through, for the brush with tragedy.

Darry held Soda tightly to him, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, Pepsi Cola. I hated to tell you. I know you've been so scared. But the worst didn't happen, okay?"

Soda pressed his face into Darry's shirt, the grief of near loss enveloping him. "What do I do, Darry? What can I do?"

"What you always do. Be there. Just love him, and be the damn amazing friend that you always are."

* * *

Steve grasped Nicholas' hand. "Dad, please don't leave."

Nicholas brushed away the tear on Steve's cheek. "I'm not, Son. I'm staying right here. They're letting me stay with you all night. I'm not leaving you."

"I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that."

"It's going to be all right. Just sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you. Please forgive me, Dad."

* * *

Pony came in from outside, the door closing behind him. "Hey, Darry, you'll never believe what TwoBit just told me. He-" He stopped, his gaze questioning, as he realized both of his brothers were crying. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Darry looked up from his place on the floor, where he held onto Soda. "Hang on, Pony. I'll come talk to you in a few minutes."

Pony shook his head and kneeled down behind Soda, putting a hand on his back. He stared at his middle brother, who hadn't stopped sobbing, then looked at Darry again. "Darry, did something happen with Steve? Why does Soda look like that? I haven't seen him like this since-"

Darry put a hand on Pony's shoulder, his other arm still tight around Soda. "Yes. Yes, it did. But it's going to be okay. I promise."

Pony laid his head on Soda's shoulder, the cries coming from his brother making his chest begin to ache with his own fear and sadness . "Please tell me, Dar. Please tell me what happened. He's okay, right?"

Darry nodded, wiping his cheeks, but not releasing Soda. "Yes, he's okay. I'm going to tell you. Just not right now. But I promise I will tonight."

* * *

Nicholas hadn't left Steve's side since making calls, both to the grocery store and to Darry. He remained there by his son's bed, even as the hour grew late and darkness shrouded the room. He felt the pain of this close call hit him with force only the knowledge that Steve had attempted to take his own life could bring. He gazed at his son, his own flesh and blood, the boy who was part of him. He longed to fall apart, to cry and scream, but he couldn't right now. Not here. He couldn't let the agony pull him under yet, not when Steve needed his strength to recover from both the physical ordeal and the surely worsened emotional trauma.

Nicholas didn't speak, as a nurse came in often to check on Steve. He had seen that her name tag read "Sara," but he only watched his son, his eyes closed in the temporary rest his body needed after the intentional overdose.

He heard the sound of Sara's voice and looked up to see her standing next to Steve's IV pole that held a bag of fluids. "He's doing okay. You look like you need to know that."

Nicholas only nodded, a lump beginning to grow in his throat. As he heard Sara's footsteps fall across the room, leaving father and son alone again, he leaned his head against the railing of the hospital bed, his face close to Steve's. He tried not to think of his son swallowing handfuls of pills, medicine that should help heal becoming a way for him to try to die.

Nicholas remembered how Steve had said he thought it would just make him go to sleep and not wake up. That wasn't what had occurred at all, and he was grateful that his son's body hadn't given up, along with his spirit. He was grateful that Steve had time to call him, that the emergency room doctors were able to pump the poison out and stop his system from absorbing more of it.

Nicholas had heard the doctors talking to him, the words "intentional," "suicide attempt," and "acetaminophen" coming from their lips, as they asked questions and gave explanations. They would keep Steve here on this floor for at least a day for observation, believing the blood work should be clear, no sign of the liver damage that would've occurred if it had been too late.

As much as Nicholas wanted to take Steve home, he knew he wouldn't be able to for at least a few days. But a part of him was relieved at this, knowing the hospital wouldn't release him right away, that they couldn't only rely on his physical recovery. Steve had to be observed and evaluated for signs of mental recovery too, so for the time being, Nicholas knew he was safe, even though it was hard for him to be certain this wouldn't happen again.

Nicholas looked from Steve's face to the window on the other side of his bed. He squeezed his son's hand, a reminder of his steady, un-moving presence, then got to his feet. He went to the window and turned the slats of the blind partially open. Pieces of light came in from the parking lot, casting shadows on the tile floor and white walls of the hospital room. Nicholas looked out at the sky, the pain in his heart great, but he had to thank the God of heaven that Steve would live to see the sun dawn on a new day.

A/N: I have no words for how hard this was to write. It was originally two chapters, and I cried through much of the second half for fairly obvious reasons. In writing fiction, you get really attached to characters, so it's really hard when they hurt this much. This is a place I was honestly afraid to go, though I knew it was going to a while back. I just wasn't sure how. But I still love it so much because the deeper we go, the more it means and the more power it holds when characters weather the struggle and get through everything together.


	26. Chapter 26

Steve groaned, as he woke up and saw Nicholas asleep in the chair next to his bed. He licked his lips, realizing he was thirsty. He started to reach over to tap his dad's arm when he felt the pull of the IV tubing connecting him to the metal pole. He put a hand on his throat, the soreness reminding him of the tube that had helped suction out his stomach, making him remember why he was here.

Steve laid his head back against the soft pillow, the memory of the day before coming back to him. He touched his stomach, its emptiness proof of the agony his body had endured after he'd swallowed the pills, of the vomiting that had attempted to expel the poison. He remembered the pain, then the fear that had made him want to fight to live. When he realized the true gravity of what he'd done, that was when he called Nicholas. Steve knew that no matter what, his dad would help him. Even though he'd acted deliberately, under the lethal influence of the memories of abuse and the shame that wouldn't loosen its grip, he knew Nicholas would be there. His dad wouldn't let him go.

For Steve, the drive to the emergency room was a blur, the life-saving procedures performed in the hospital seeming like a dream. He remembered hardly letting go of Nicholas' hand, crying from both the physical and emotional pain, as he revealed the truth to the doctors he was trusting. They'd needed to know what he'd taken, what time, and how much, and with his dad by his side, he had answered each question, simply wanting to know he would live. The doctors hadn't hesitated, hadn't stopped to analyze why he would do this, only acting to save Steve's life and minimize the damage.

He'd had a tube put down his throat, the medical staff quick to act, but also explaining what was happening. They pumped his stomach, working to free his body from the toxicity of the overdose. Afterwards, Steve remembered the awful taste of what they had said was activated charcoal that would absorb any remaining medication.

As he did what the doctors and nurses instructed, letting them help him, Steve had found himself praying. Just a short time before the trip to the hospital, he had prayed God would let him die, caught in the despairing belief that he would never truly feel better, never truly heal from the past. Yet, under the trained and steady hands of the medical staff, his physical body suffering from the impulsive decision to buy and take the same pain caplets his dad had removed from the house, he prayed God would make sure he lived through this.

Steve reached for his dad and touched his arm. "Dad. Wake up, please."

Nicholas' eyes opened, focusing on Steve. "How are you feeling, Son?"

"Still tired and kind of sick. I'm real thirsty."

Nicholas turned to the tray behind him that held the pitcher of cold water Sara had brought. He filled one of the paper cups and handed it to Steve. "Here. Just don't drink too fast."

Steve took the cup, sipping the water, the coldness feeling good on his still irritated throat. "Dad, when can I go home?"

"Not right away. You have to stay for a few days, at least."

"But why? I'm okay now, right? Didn't I call you soon enough?"

Nicholas took the cup of water from Steve and set it back down on the tray, then let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes. "Yes, it looks like you're going to be okay, but it's not that simple."

"I feel better though. I'm kind of weak and all, but it's not that bad. I want to go home."

Nicholas stood, then sat on the edge of Steve's bed. "Son, there's something you need to understand here. You can't go home yet because you overdosed on purpose."

"I know. But I won't do it again, I swear. I don't want to stay here."

Nicholas put his hand on Steve's arm. "You don't have a choice. They have to talk to you and try to make sure you'll be safe."

Steve shook his head. "No, no. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Please take me home, Dad."

"I can't, Stevie. But it's okay. I'll still be right here."

Steve looked at Nicholas, his voice pleading. "No. Please don't make me stay. I'm sorry. I know I messed up, but I won't do it again. I promise."

Nicholas felt tears come to his eyes at both the desperation in Steve's voice and the promise he couldn't be certain his son would keep. "It's not punishment, Son. It's to help you. All you have to do is talk to them."

"But I can talk to you and to Laura."

"But you have to talk to a doctor here too." Nicholas touched Steve's cheek, meeting his eyes with his own steady gaze. "I don't want this to happen again. The people here don't either. Son, you only got very sick, but you could have died."

"It won't. I don't ever want to feel sick like that again, and I don't want to die. It won't happen again, Dad."

Nicholas nodded, his hand still on Steve's cheek. I want to believe you, he thought. But I can't.

* * *

Soda lie stretched out on his bed, still in his clothes from the day before. He saw Darry peek in at him, but stayed where he was. "I have to see him, Dar. I can't do anything else til I do."

Darry took in the appearance of his brother's face, still stained with tears, his eyes red from the crying he hadn't been able to stop for much of the night. "I know, little buddy." He walked over to Soda and kneeled down next to the bed, so they were face to face. "Nicholas told me what floor he's on last night. He'll be there all day today."

"And then he can go home?"

"Not so soon. Not after something like this."

"Oh." Soda blinked, reality settling in some more. "Please, Darry. I need to see him."

Darry rubbed Soda's shoulder. "It's still early, but I'll call my boss and see if I can go in a little late. Do you want to call Mr. Coleman?"

Soda nodded. "I told him I'd let him know if I heard from Steve anyway. But what do I say?"

"Just tell him Steve's in the hospital. He's going to need to know that anyway."

"But Steve's not going to want him to know that he- he's not going to want him to know what he did."

"I know. But there may not be a way around that. Let Nicholas decide, okay? I'm sure he'll call him today."

"This is so damn hard. I want to see him, but I'm scared too. Like I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say. Like everything is different now."

* * *

Nicholas held a hot cup of coffee in his hand, sipping it as he tried to remember when he'd last eaten. He knew it wasn't today or even last night. But he wasn't hungry, couldn't even imagine eating right now. He wasn't far from Steve's room, only just behind the nurse's station. His son had gone back to sleep, likely still tired from the day and night before and from the conversation they had shared.

The words Steve had spoken echoed in Nicholas' mind, a promise he wished he could accept. But he couldn't, not when his son was recovering from an attempt to take his own life. He had tried to believe Steve wouldn't ever hurt himself, had even gotten when he would trust him to call him or someone else if he felt like he might. Yet, despite the constant support and the protection, Steve had still done it, somehow becoming desperate enough that he gave in to the impulse he thought could end the pain.

Nicholas didn't believe it had even actually hit him yet. It couldn't when he had to be there for Steve, while trying to process the incident that still felt like a dream. Shock was there with him, a companion that cushioned the blows and wouldn't let his heart become overwhelmed with the truth and its ramifications until the time was right.

Nicholas stared at the phone that hung next to the drink machine, aware it was still early, but he decided he would go ahead and make a few calls anyway.

* * *

Darry stood next to Soda on the elevator that was taking them up to the floor where Nicholas said Steve was for the time being. "You sure you're going to be okay to go to work after this?"

Soda nodded. "I told Mr. Coleman I would. So I guess. I didn't sleep a lot last night, but I don't think it'll help if I do nothing either."

"He okay with you coming in late?"

"Yeah. I hardly even had to ask. He knows the score, even though I told him I don't know exactly what happened."

The elevator doors opened, as Darry spoke again. "It's still the truth. You don't."

Soda stepped off the elevator, Darry right behind him. He stopped in front of the sign that had arrows on it, giving directions to patient rooms and waiting areas. "Dar, I don't know how to do this."

"Let's just find Nicholas, okay? He told me where he'd be."

* * *

Nicholas held the phone receiver to his ear. "Yeah, that'd be good. But even if you don't, just please pray for him and for me." He looked to his left, seeing Soda and Darry. "Yeah. I know. Thanks. I'll see you soon. Bye." He hung the phone up, pausing for a moment, before he could turn around and look at his son's best friend for the first time since Steve had tried to kill himself. Nicholas stood still, then felt a hand on his shoulder. Lifting his head and dropping his hand from the phone receiver, he met Soda's eyes.

Soda looked at Darry, who was on his other side, then back at Nicholas. "I'm sorry this happened."

Nicholas pulled Soda close and wrapped his arms around him. "I just keep telling myself he's alive. He's going to be okay."

Soda squeezed Nicholas, holding on tightly. "I cried all night. But I didn't even believe Darry at first. It was like I couldn't. I didn't want to."

"I didn't want to either," Nicholas said. "Steve called me, and even when he said he did something he shouldn't have, I tried to look for another reason he'd say that, some other reason he would be so sick."

"Do you know what happened? Do you know why he-" Soda pulled back from the hug, swallowing. "Why didn't he call one of us or-" He felt Darry's hand come to rest on his shoulder.

Nicholas shook his head. "I haven't asked anything like that yet. He feels really bad. Really guilty. I want to know what was going on yesterday that made him feel like that, but I don't want to get into too much when he's trying to recover physically too."

Darry took a step closer to Nicholas. "Please tell me if I can do anything."

"Thanks," Nicholas said. "I might take you up on that. Coming here means a lot. I haven't even seen anyone since... Well, since before Steve called me."

"I don't know what to say to him," Soda said."

Nicholas put his hands on Soda's shoulders. "He just needs to know you're still here."

* * *

Soda stood just outside Steve's hospital room, able to see his friend, though he knew he couldn't see him. He turned away, looking at Nicholas and Darry, who were talking just a few feet away. He closed his eyes, as the tears welled up again.

Soda felt a presence next to him and looked up, seeing the tears in Nicholas' eyes, as he heard his voice. "It's okay, Sodapop."

"I do want to go in. It's not because I don't."

"I know that. I know this is hard for you too. But I'm here." Nicholas nodded his head toward Darry. "Remember your brother's here too."

Soda's eyes met Darrys' gaze, his voice shaking. "Okay."

"So go on in. He needs you. Even more than before."

* * *

Soda sat down in the chair next to Steve's bed, eyeing the IV tubing connected to his friend's hand. He touched his arm, not able to stop himself from noticing the hospital bracelet on his other wrist. It had Steve's name and his birth date.

Soda stared at the numbers and letters, the information basic to the hospital staff, but so important to everyone who cared about Steve. "See? You're Steve. Still my best friend, no matter what. Just like I told you." He squeezed his friend's arm, seeing his eyes flutter open. "Hey, buddy."

Steve sat up a little bit. "Soda, I'm sorry. I know-"

Soda shook his head, moving his own hand to hold Steve's. "Not right now. I'm here, okay? And the only thing I care about is you're alive."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did, but please don't hate me. You were already scared and now-"

"Don't, Stevie." Soda squeezed his friend's hand. I'm more scared now, he thought. But it's because I love you so much. "I couldn't hate you."

Tears fell down Steve's face, as he squeezed Soda's hand even tighter. "I kept feeling like nothing was getting better."

Soda eased his arms around Steve in an embrace, laying his head on his shoulder. But if you died, you wouldn't have a chance to get better, he thought. You'd be gone, and we couldn't help you at all.

Steve rested his cheek against Soda's head, clutching him tightly. "But I'm not going to do it again. It hurt so bad, Sodapop."

Soda held on to Steve, keeping his tears back. My heart hurts so bad, he thought. "Shh. I know." But I'm trying to be strong for you, even though I can't stop crying inside.

"I've never been that scared."

Soda let one tear fall. I'm terrified you'll do this again, he thought. "But you called your dad." Even though I wish you'd done it sooner. "And you're alive." I wish you hadn't tried to die. Don't you know I couldn't take it if you did?

"I already couldn't feel better, no matter what I did, and now, it's worse."

The worst thing would be if you died, Soda thought, still not letting go of Steve.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to die."

"You're going to be okay. You have to be." You've said that so many times before, Soda thought. So why did you do this?

"I didn't mean to hurt you or my dad."

"I always tell you I ain't going anywhere, and I mean it." Then, why didn't you come to one of us? Soda thought. You know you can. You've done it before.

Steve closed his eyes, remembering his desperation, even as he let his best friend hold him. "I just felt like I had to make it stop."

But you weren't supposed to do this, Soda thought. You weren't supposed to hurt yourself. "I know it hurts, but I promise I'm here, buddy. I'm still here." Please don't do this again. Please don't die.

* * *

Dr. Levy adjusted the glasses on his face, as he looked up from his clipboard, speaking to Steve. "You're recovering just fine. Bloodwork looks good. There haven't been any complications."

Nicholas nodded. "Thanks, Doctor."

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Levy asked Steve.

Steve sat on his bed, his socked feet touching the floor. "So when do I have to talk to whoever it is you want me to see?"

"You'll talk to Dr. Reynolds within the next couple of days," Dr. Levy said. "He's a psychiatrist. But that won't be here on this floor. That'll be upstairs."

Nicholas watched Steve's expression, before speaking to the doctor again. "How much longer will he stay on this floor then?"

"Probably just until sometime tomorrow morning," Dr. Levy replied. "Someone will let you know when there's a room available and all the paperwork is ready."

Steve stared down at the floor, his hand holding onto the bed railing. "I just want to go home."

Dr. Levy nodded. "I know. But it's standard procedure to have a psychiatric evaluation after a suicide attempt. But I do understand."

"Thank you again, Doctor," Nicholas said.

"You're both welcome," Dr. Levy said. "I'll speak to you later. Let us know if you need anything at all."

Nicholas watched Dr. Levy leave the room, then turned his eyes to Steve, realizing his face was flushed. "Son?"

Steve took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as he felt his hands shake. "Dad, what he just said. Those words. That's what I did."

"I know. It's okay, Stevie."

Steve shook his head. "No, it's not okay. Nothing is okay! I screwed up. It's exactly what he said. It's a suicide attempt!"

Nicholas sat down in front of Steve and held both of his hands. "But that means you survived."

"Dad, what am I going to do about school and work and-" Steve's eyes widened. "Does Evie know I'm here?"

"I haven't talked to her, but she's going to know something's going on, Son."

Steve hid his face in Nicholas' shoulder. "But she still didn't even know I was struggling like this. I haven't told her about it. What's she going to say?"

Nicholas kissed the top of Steve's head, rubbing his back. "She cares about you. She'll just be glad you're okay."

* * *

Evie slammed her locker shut. "TwoBit!"

TwoBit stopped, turning to see Evie, as students kept going past him in the hallway. "Hey, Evie!"

"Have you seen Steve today?"

"No, I sure haven't." TwoBit frowned. "Damn. I told him next time he wanted to skip class to let me know."

Evie rolled her eyes. "I doubt he's skipping. Maybe he had to stay home today. He didn't look like he felt well when I saw him last yesterday."

* * *

Mr. Coleman came inside from the garage. "Hey, how's Steve?"

Soda put the last of the bottled drinks in the refrigerator and picked up the now empty box, not looking at his boss. "He's okay. I guess."

"Sodapop?"

Soda met Mr. Coleman's gaze.

"I talked to his dad earlier."

Soda looked down at the box. "Oh."

"How are you? I know how close you guys are."

"Not so good, really. Just glad he's okay, but I'm still real worried. And I guess I'm still in shock."

"Next time you see him, please tell him don't worry about anything. He still has a job whenever he can come back."

* * *

Steve held up his hand that still had his IV in it. "Dad, do you know when they're going to take this thing out? I hate being tied to a pole."

Nicholas felt a smile tug at his lips. "Hey, it's not so bad. You just roll it along with you."

Steve scowled. "They want me to get up and move around, but I'm stuck with this. I don't get it."

Nicholas went over to the IV pole and rolled it alongside him, putting it right next to Steve. "You sound like it's cemented to the floor."

Steve eyed the pole, his eyebrow raising. "It's like having a leash or something.

Nicholas chuckled.

"How is this funny?"

"I'm sorry. I can't help it. You sound like you for the first time since-" Nicholas' smile faltered.

Steve sighed, pulling the IV pole across the room with him. He nodded at Nicholas. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I know you've cried so much, Dad. I'm glad you can still laugh." He grinned a little. "Even if it is at me."

* * *

Nicholas had come home intending to take a shower and get some clothes and other necessities, but right now, he found himself staring into the bathroom, the image of Steve on the floor still so clear. He could hear his son throwing up, could still feel the icy cold tentacles of fear wrap around his heart, as he told him what he'd done.

Nicholas had never had a panic attack, like the ones he'd seen Steve experience, but he could imagine the feeling right now, as he tried to breathe over the terror rising in his chest. He kept hearing his son's voice begging for help, apologizing, telling him he wanted to stay. He stepped away from the bathroom, going into his own bedroom. He dropped to his knees, his heart pounding, as he remembered pulling Steve up off the tile floor and holding onto him, helping him get to the car. As soon as Nicholas had known for sure what was going on, his son's explanation for his call and apparent sickness making him certain he had to get him to the hospital, he had snapped into the mode that made him able to do what a father had to do to save his child. He'd still been so afraid he was somehow too late, even though he kept Steve talking through the pain and nausea on the way to the emergency room, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, as he drove faster than he ever had before.

Even as he moved quickly, knowing the minutes counted, Nicholas had felt like time was frozen, forever trapping him in that moment he first knew Steve had actually hurt himself. The seconds hadn't ticked by again until he knew his son would be okay. Time had stood still until he knew Steve's life was saved, despite the potentially deadly circumstances the pain of trauma had carved into this path that endlessly circled back to the past.

* * *

"Doing all right there, honey?" Sara asked.

Steve shrugged, as Sara put the stethoscope to his chest, listening to hear his heart beat. She picked up the blood pressure cuff and secured it around his arm.

As Steve watched her take his vitals, the cuff with its velcro squeezing his arm, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what it would've been like for his heart to stop, for the blood to cease flowing throughout his body.

Sara grinned at her patient, then patted his arm, as she removed the blood pressure cuff and put the stethoscope around her neck. "Don't worry. You're in good hands around here."

Steve nodded. "I'm okay, right?"

"Yes, Steve. Your vital signs are all within a normal range."

As Sara left the room, the stethoscope around her neck and the blood pressure cuff and monitor in her hand, Steve remembered swallowing the pills. He'd wanted to make his vital signs cease to exist, wanted to sleep forever and not feel the pain from the flashbacks and nightmares, from the never-ending deep emotions.

Steve had only acted in the moment, not considering he'd change his mind, not even thinking about his dad or Sodapop or Evie. The only person in his head had been Clara, the one who had cared so little about him that she manipulated and abused him, her terrible touch and her voice the reason he could believe death would be a welcome relief.

* * *

"You have a nice day," Soda said to the customer in front of him, as he handed her a handful of change and closed the cash register drawer.

He heard the bell above the door ding and looked up to see his little brother coming inside. "Hey, Pone."

Pony held the door open for the woman leaving, then let it close, looking at Soda. "You doing okay?"

Soda nodded. "I guess so. As okay as I can. Darry will be here soon."

Pony turned his head, as the door opened again. "Hi, TwoBit."

TwoBit ruffled Pony's hair. "Hey, Sodapop, when you see Steve, tell him he ain't allowed to go skipping class without me."

Soda stared at TwoBit, his eyes widening. "Oh."

TwoBit raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? You look like something shocked you."

* * *

"I didn't even want to be gone this long," Nicholas mumbled, as he picked up his car keys and the small bag he'd packed. He was about to walk out the door when he saw Evie approaching the house. "Damn." He gripped the shoulder strap on the bag, waiting, deciding what he should say to her.

Evie opened the door, seeing Nicholas. "Mr. Randle? Is Steve here?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, he's not, Evie."

"Well, do you know when he'll be back?"

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his forehead, as he motioned to a kitchen chair. "Sit down, Evie. He's okay. But something happened. He's in the hospital."

"Hospital? I knew he didn't look like he felt well yesterday, but he didn't seem that sick." Evie followed Nicholas to the table and took the seat across from him. "You don't look so great yourself. What's going on with him?"

How do I do this? Nicholas thought. Should I do this when she's going to be so shocked, especially because she didn't know Steve was even suicidal at all?

"Mr. Randle? If he's okay, why is he in the hospital?"

Deciding to just speak the dreaded words, giving Evie the truth, Nicholas took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, but Steve is in the hospital because he overdosed on some medication yesterday."

"What? How did he do that?"

Nicholas leaned forward, meeting Evie's gaze, as he spoke gently. "It wasn't an accident. He did it on purpose."

Evie frowned, shaking her head. "Why would he do that? That can make you sick or-" She stopped, realization dawning on her. "No. Tell me that's not what you're trying to say. Please."

"Evie, you have to idea how much I wish I wasn't." Nicholas could see a film of tears in Evie's eyes, his own not far from the surface. "But, yes, that's what I'm telling you."

Evie put his hands on her cheeks, tears beginning to slip around her fingers. "But why? Why would he do that?"

"You know he's been struggling a lot with- well, with what happened to him when he was a kid. I don't know what else happened yesterday that made him feel so bad."

"But he's going to be okay?"

"Yes. They want to keep him at the hospital for a little while, but he called me soon enough after."

Evie closed her eyes against the thoughts in her mind. "I do love him, Mr. Randle. Doesn't he know we all love him?"

* * *

Nicholas walked into Steve's hospital room to find his son had pulled one of the chairs up next to the window and was sitting there, his face close to the glass. He went over to him, leaning against the sill. "I'm back, Son. I'm sorry I was gone even that long. You doing okay right now?"

Steve nodded. "I guess so."

Nicholas pulled another chair up next to Steve, settling down into it. "You should know Evie came by looking for you."

Steve sighed, his eyes staring at his lap. "Did you tell her?"

Nicholas reached for Steve's shoulder. "I did. I didn't know what else to tell her, except the truth. I'm sorry if you didn't want me to."

"It's okay, Dad. It's not like I could keep something like this from her anyway. It's just because of where we seem to be right now, I'm worried I'll scare her away for real this time."

"She told me she loves you. And that's something you need to hear a lot right now."

Steve looked at Nicholas, his eyes filling with the tears that had hardly stopped coming since he'd been admitted. "Dad, I hurt everyone, didn't I?"

"But it's okay, Steve. It's because we love you."

"I want you to know I wasn't thinking about that when I got the pills or when I took them. I was only thinking of this pain I can't make go away."

* * *

Irene opened Evie's bedroom door to find her daughter crying, her journal open on her lap. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Evie stared at the words on the page of her journal, tears dripping onto the paper. "Mom, Steve tried to kill himself."

Irene came all the way into the room, going straight to Evie's side. "I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetie."

"When I last saw him, he didn't look like he felt well." Evie paused, wiping her face and sniffling. "He even said he didn't. Then he told me he was just tired and that he was trying to be better. I didn't know that's what he meant."

"Oh, you couldn't have known, Evie." Irene put her arms around her daughter. "Do you know what happened?"

Evie laid her head on her mom's shoulder, the journal forgotten. "His dad told me he overdosed, but he's going to be okay. He called him, and they got to the hospital in time. I knew Steve has been so upset, but I didn't know it was this bad."

Irene kissed the side of Evie's head, still holding onto her.

"Mom, what if this is because of me? What if it's because of what's been happening between us?"

"No. Don't say that, honey. It's not your fault. You've told me what Steve's been through and how it's been affecting him. That's not about you. Please don't do that to yourself."


	27. Chapter 27

Steve pulled the blanket around himself, eyeing both the bandage that now covered the area where the IV had been and the slight bruising on his other arm where blood had been drawn. He looked over at Nicholas, who was laying back with his feet up in the small recliner Sara had brought in the room for him. "You can go home and sleep in a bed, Dad. You don't have to stay. I'm surprised they'll even let you now."

Nicholas spoke with his eyes closed. "Every rule has exceptions, Son. I'm fine here. This chair's not bad."

Steve curled up, his head on the pillow. "I don't know how I could still want to sleep, but I do."

"Probably because that's what you need." Nicholas opened his eyes, sitting up straighter. "I'm going to go down and grab a bite to eat before the cafeteria closes."

"Sure, Dad."

"Want me to bring you anything?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah. I don't really feel like anything right now. I did eat a little earlier though. Food's not too bad for a hospital."

Nicholas pushed the lever on the recliner, making the foot rest drop down. He stood up, before touching Steve's arm. "I'll be back soon. You just sleep."

* * *

Samuel walked into the hospital cafeteria, seeing Nicholas at a table in the back with a half-empty tray of food in front of him. He made his way over to his friend, taking the chair across from him. "Hey. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

Nicholas pushed the remainder of his food away. "No. It's fine. Thanks for meeting me here."

"So how's Steve doing tonight?"

"He's tired still. But, otherwise, physically okay. I'm not too sure about how he is emotionally. Like you'd expect, I guess. Sad. Scared."

"What about you?"

"I've been trying to keep it together." Nicholas put his hands over his face, then rubbed his temples. "But I can't stop feeling like I failed him."

* * *

Soda held a cigarette between his lips, head resting on the back of the swing. He let his eyes close, tiredness catching up to him. He didn't feel Darry sit next to him, only opening his eyes when he felt his big brother pull the cigarette from his mouth. "Hey, I wasn't done with that."

Darry put the cigarette out. "Go to bed, little buddy. I know it's still early, but you need it."

"Maybe you're right."

"Maybe?" Darry grinned. "I always am. You know that by now, don't you?"

Soda almost grinned, but looked away from Darry. "Don't, Dar."

"It's okay to smile, Sodapop."

"But I don't even want to." Soda lifted his head up and leaned forward, resting his chin on the palms of his hands. "I can't believe it's my birthday tomorrow. It doesn't feel right."

* * *

Nicholas sat in the front pew of the dimly lit hospital chapel, folded hands in his lap. "Thanks for telling me this was here. I didn't really want to have a breakdown in the middle of the cafeteria."

Samuel nodded from his place beside him. "Sure. I've been in here before. It feels less public, especially at night.

"Would you do something for me?"

"Anything I can."

"Pray. Cause I can't do it. When I try, I just end up crying."

Samuel put a hand on Nicholas' shoulder, squeezing. "That's all right, you know. God doesn't mind if you cry. He knows what you need to say."

"But my prayers..." Nicholas sighed, slumping forward. "They weren't enough anyway. They failed Steve. I failed him."

Samuel met Nicholas' eyes, grabbing both of his shoulders. "No. That's not true."

Nicholas didn't hold back his sobs. "It is! I've done everything. Or I thought I did. But he still tried to kill himself. He still wanted to die. How can I know this won't happen again? That he won't die if it does?"

"Nicholas, Steve called you in the darkest moment there is because you've been there for him! That means everything." Samuel wrapped his arm around Nicholas' shoulders. "I know it hurts to see your child suffer, to think you should've been able to stop it. But you still saved him."

Nicholas looked up at Samuel, tears still flowing. "I don't want you to think I'm not grateful he's still here with me."

"I don't think that at all. Just like I told you before, I know you treasure what you have with your son. That's why this is hurting you so badly."

"He asked me to still love him, to forgive him. But it's me I still need to forgive. For everything else, and now, for this too." Nicholas bowed his head, pressing his palms against his eyes, unable to stop the tears. "My son, who's always going to be my little boy, wanted to die."

Samuel felt Nicholas shake, as he brought his other arm around him, hugging him. "You asked me to pray. So I will." With both of his arms still wrapped around his friend, he closed his eyes. "Father, in the name of Jesus..."

* * *

"You can go back in the house, Dar," Soda said. "I ain't drinking. You don't have to sit here and watch me."

"No can do, little buddy," Darry said. "Cause I'm going to have even more gray hair if you don't tell me what you're thinking right now."

"I ain't thinking anything."

Darry ruffled Soda's hair, then gently rapped his knuckles on the side of his head.

"Why the hell are you knocking on my head? It ain't a door."

Darry crossed his arms over his chest. "Cause you said you're not thinking anything. It doesn't sound empty to me."

Soda felt the beginning of a smile start to cross his face, as his eyes filled with tears. "Stop it, Darry. Please."

"But I made you smile."

"I don't want to smile. How can I smile when my best friend could've died yesterday? How can anything be funny?"

Darry rested a hand on Soda's shoulder. "I need you to look at me, Pepsi Cola."

Soda pulled away, getting to his feet. "No! Cause you're going to tell me he didn't die. Like that makes all of this okay." He turned around, his back to Darry, as his voice got quieter. "Don't get me wrong. I can't tell you how glad I am that he's all right. I told him all I care about is he's alive, and I mean it. But he still tried to die, and it fuckin' hurts to know that!

Darry moved to stand behind Soda. "I know it doesn't make it okay, and I know that hurts. But he called Nicholas, and that means he wanted to live. That's why he's alive, why he has another chance."

"But it wasn't supposed to get this bad, Darry!" Soda paced forward a few steps, then turned around to see his brother. "Do you know how many times Steve has told me he didn't want to die? How did this happen anyway?" He ran his fingers through his hair, his voice getting louder. "Why didn't he come to me, to Nicholas, to anyone? There weren't even any pills in their house, so he actually decided to do this. He knew he'd almost taken them once before, but he still got them!"

"It's okay if you're angry, Sodapop. Believe me, I understand."

"He kept saying he wouldn't do it, Darry. That he didn't want to hurt himself." Soda put his hand on his forehead, breathing hard. "I don't want to be mad at him. I don't."

Darry took Soda's arm, leading him to sit back down on the swing. "But it's okay. You're mad because you care so much."

"But it makes me feel terrible because he's hurting so bad. I know that's why this happened. And I still want to know what he was thinking yesterday, what made it all even worse."

* * *

Nicholas looked into Steve's room, having just said goodbye to Samuel. He expected his son to be asleep, but he was awake and sitting next to the window again.

Before Nicholas could say anything, Steve turned his head, speaking to his dad. "I couldn't sleep."

Nicholas pulled a chair up, sitting in front of Steve. "That's okay. You've had a lot of rest."

Steve stared at Nicholas' face. "You look like you were crying."

Nicholas nodded. "I was. But I'm all right now."

"Dad, I'm scared of talking to that doctor. I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Like what if he wants to keep me here? What if he thinks I'll do it again and won't let me go home?"

"He's only going to want to help you, Son."

"I'm worried about going upstairs at all. I'm not crazy."

Nicholas reached over and rubbed Steve's arm. "No one said you were crazy."

"But they must think I am. That's why I have to go to another floor. I'm afraid I'm going to have flashbacks or something up there too."

"They'll know how to help with those, if you do. And Dr. Levy knows about that, so he'll let them know."

"You told him?"

"There were some things I had to tell him, Steve. They're treating you. They have to know what's going on. And if something happens when I'm not here, I want them to know what you've been dealing with."

Steve lowered his head. "I guess that makes sense."

Nicholas took Steve's hand, holding it with both of his own. "The more they know, the more they'll be able to understand why."

Steve's eyes looked up at Nicholas, his head still down. "You mean why I tried to kill myself?"

"Yes. That's what I mean."

"Did you tell him what happened too? Why I have the flashbacks and stuff?"

"Just that you were abused."

Steve nodded. "The other doctor will want to know more, won't he?"

"I'm sure he will. He's going to want to know how you were feeling and what you were thinking about that made you decide" Nicholas squeezed Steve's hand, swallowing. "to take all those pills."

"You forgive me, right, Dad?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Son. But of course, I do."

* * *

TwoBit opened the door to the Curtis' house and stepped inside. "Hey, Pone, you want to walk to school with me?"

Pony put his empty plate and glass in the sink. "Sure, TwoBit."

Soda came into the kitchen, still buttoning up his DX shirt. "Hey, TwoBit."

"I thought Steve would've picked you up already," TwoBit said. "Happy birthday."

Soda picked up his shoes and started to put them on. "Oh. Um, thanks."

Darry appeared, picking the keys to his truck up off the counter. "Come on, little buddy. We better get moving."

Soda didn't look up from his shoe laces. "I am moving, Dar."

"I'm going to walk to school with TwoBit, Darry," Pony said, picking up his backpack.

Darry nodded. "All right, Pone."

Pony opened the door. "I'm going to go for a run after school too." He waved to his middle brother, as he went outside. "Bye, Soda. Happy birthday again!"

TwoBit started to follow Pony out the door. "Feel like an adult yet, Sodapop?"

Soda thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. I don't think so."

Darry smiled, as he fastened his toolbelt around his waist. "Don't worry. It ain't all it's cracked up to be."

TwoBit shrugged. "I like it fine. Hey, where's Stevie?"

Soda's mouth opened, then closed again, as he looked over at Darry.

TwoBit's gaze went from Soda to Darry, then back again. "What's going on, guys? Soda, I swear you got that same look on your face at the DX yesterday."

Pony stuck his head inside. "You coming, TwoBit?"

TwoBit nodded. "Sure, Kid."

Darry sighed. "TwoBit, Steve's in the hospital."

TwoBit cocked an eyebrow. "Okay. Why? And since when?"

Pony stayed at the door, looking between his buddy and his brothers.

"A couple of days ago," Soda said.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" TwoBit asked. "What's wrong?"

Soda stood up quickly. "Damn it. How am I supposed to care about my birthday?"

Darry put a hand on Soda's shoulder, as he took a step closer to TwoBit. "He tried to kill himself, buddy. That's why he's in the hospital. But he's going to be okay."

TwoBit's eyes widened. "Steve? He did that? What the hell is going on with him that he would-" He stopped, shaking his head.

"He's going to be all right, TwoBit," Pony said, as he stepped back inside the house.

"How long is he going to be in the hospital?" TwoBit asked.

"Not sure yet," Darry said. "Hopefully, not much longer."

TwoBit looked at each of his friends, his eyes questioning. "Is this anything to do with the time he had that thing here where he couldn't breathe and got all jumpy?"

Soda nodded. "Yeah. Part of it."

TwoBit thought for a moment. "And that day he suddenly had to leave school? Like something freaked him out?"

Soda nodded again, sighing. "Yeah."

TwoBit put his arm around Pony's shoulders, pulling him closer. "This gang has been through way too much."

* * *

Steve reached for one of his red checkers, using it to jump Nicholas' black one.

Nicholas frowned. "Damn. Why didn't I move that one?"

Steve chuckled.

Nicholas started to pick up another one of his black checkers, then paused, looking at Steve. "It's so good to hear you laugh."

"Even if it is at you?"

Nicholas moved the checker to a new space, grinning. "Especially if it's at me."

Sara appeared in the doorway. "Steve, Dr. Levy sent your paperwork and all upstairs. You'll be going up soon."

Steve looked at the checker board, then at Nicholas. "How soon?"

"Probably within the next hour or two," Sara said.

"Thanks, Sara," Nicholas added. He turned to Steve. "It's okay, Son. Let's just finish the game."

* * *

"You okay, Evie?" Patricia asked, as she stopped next to her friend's desk at the end of history class.

Evie nodded, picking up her textbook and notebook. "I'm fine." She avoided Patricia's eyes. "Um, I'm going to skip the cafeteria today. I have something I need to do."

Patricia tilted her head, eyeing Evie. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." Evie started toward the door. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Soda was putting the gas pump nozzle back in its cradle when he saw Evie coming toward him. "Oh, boy," he mumbled, rubbing his face.

"Hi, Sodapop," Evie said, biting her lower lip. "I talked to Steve's dad yesterday when I went by his house. Have you been to see him?"

Soda nodded. "Yeah. Yesterday. I couldn't come to work til I did."

"How was he?"

Soda sighed. "Really sad."

"Do you think he'd want to see me?"

"I'm sure he would, Evie. I know he was supposed to change rooms sometime soon. His dad is supposed to let me know when he does."

"Let me know too when you hear from him. Please."

"Sure. Of course, I will."

"Sodapop, did you know he ever felt this bad?"

"Yeah. He told me a while back. But as much as it scared me, I didn't believe this would happen."

Evie's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't help, did I?"

Soda touched Evie's arm, squeezing it. "Aw, Evie, there's so much more going on than what happened between you two."

"But maybe if I hadn't said the things I did or hurt him-"

Soda pulled Evie into a hug. "It's okay. Steve's going to be okay. I told him he has to be."

* * *

Steve sat on the bed in his new hospital room upstairs, unable to keep from noticing how stiff it felt. He pulled the soft, but rather flat, pillow into his lap, as he looked outside the much smaller window that had no blind covering it.

The sun shone inside the room, as Steve hugged the pillow to his chest. He could see Nicholas out in the hallway, speaking to the nurse who'd previously introduced herself as Lillie.

Steve closed his eyes, remembering the ride in the elevator that had led to the locked doors separating patient rooms from visiting, dining, and recreation areas. "God, I wish I didn't have to stay here." He opened his eyes again, when he felt Nicholas sitting close to him. "Dad, I just want to go home."

Nicholas squeezed Steve's arm. "Son, listen to me. I'll be back as soon as I can, but I have to leave in just a few minutes."

Steve let the pillow fall back into his lap. "What? Why?"

"Visiting hours are different here. It's a couple hours early in the day, then a few hours more later."

"No. I just got up here." Steve wrapped his arms around Nicholas. "How does that help me?"

Nicholas hugged him back. "It's okay. I'll be back later this afternoon. I'll see what I can bring you from home too."

"I don't want to be here by myself."

"I know. But it's not for long. I promise I'll be back." Nicholas pulled away, meeting Steve's eyes. "You just hang in there. Talk to the doctor. Let him help."

* * *

Steve felt the needle prick his arm, Lillie's latex gloved hands holding it in place, as he saw the vial fill with blood. She capped the vial, then put it on the metal cart next to her, before picking up another. "Just a couple more, honey.

Steve nodded. "Okay." He watched the nurse fill the last two vials, then carefully remove the needle from his arm, replacing it with a cotton ball that she secured with a bandage.

Lillie patted Steve's other arm. "Just keep that there for at least a few hours."

"All right."

As Lillie left, the capped vials of blood on the rolling metal cart, Steve lie back on his bed, his green hospital scrubs against the white sheets. "Please don't make me stay here long, God. I'm sorry. I won't hurt myself again. You didn't take me, so maybe there's a reason for that."

Steve heard a light knock on his open door and looking toward it, seeing a man in a white coat, a sky blue shirt underneath it. He held a clipboard in his hand, a stack of papers secured to it. The man gave Steve a gentle smile. "Hi, you must be Steve. I'm Dr. Reynolds."

Steve sat up, eyeing the man up and down. "Hi."

Dr. Reynolds stepped forward and put out his hand. "It's good to meet you."

Steve took the offered hand, surprised by the firm shake. He bit his lip, looking down at his socked feet. "You want to talk to me right now, don't you?"

Dr. Reynolds nodded. "I do. I know it's different here and not the most comfortable, so let's go down the hall to my office."

Steve met the doctor's eyes, then quickly averted his gaze, as he stood up. "Okay. I guess."

* * *

Steve looked around Dr. Reynolds' office, seeing the walls were decorated with paintings, some of lakes or beaches and others depicting the sky with a bright sun or the moon and stars. He saw one with a rainbow stretched across it, the bright colors impossible to miss against the backdrop of mountains. There was a vaguely familiar scripture verse on the bottom in curvy lettering: "Be strong and of good courage; be not frightened, neither be dismayed; for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9"

Steve's eyes wandered over to Dr. Reynolds' desk that had a couple of stacks of papers and some folders on it, but he first noticed the pictures. There were two framed photos he guessed must be the doctor's kids, and taped to the wall above them were drawings clearly done by young children, created with stick people and crayon colors.

Dr. Reynolds sat down in a rolling chair, putting the clipboard on the corner of his desk, as he nodded to the small sofa across from him. "You can have a seat on the couch there, Steve."

Steve reminded himself to breathe, to keep taking in life-giving air, as he sat down on the sandy brown and red couch across from the doctor. He crossed his arms over his stomach, his hands gripping the thin material of the scrub top he was wearing.

Dr. Reynolds rolled his chair back, stopping it next to the clipboard, then turned a few pages of paper, reading through part of what Steve believed must be information about him. He looked back up at his patient, his green eyes meeting the blue ones. "So let's start with your personal history. Tell me about yourself, about your family, friends, school, and what challenges you've been facing."

* * *

Nicholas stood in the middle of Steve's room, the bag he was attempting to pack on the bed in front of him. He folded two t-shirts and two pairs of jeans, before putting them in the bag, along with socks and underwear. He wasn't allowed to bring Steve very much and had to be mindful of anything the staff would confiscate in order to avoid attempts at any form of self-harm. Nicholas wanted his son to be as comfortable as possible, even while he hoped the doctor would release him to go home within the next day or two.

He was putting a blanket in the bag when he saw a piece of paper out of the corner of his eye. He picked it up, realizing it was the set of lists that Laura had made with Steve to help him cope with the suicidal thoughts, just after he'd admitted how he was struggling with them.

Nicholas scanned the paper, wondering if his son had tried anything that had helped before or if he'd turned away from the whole idea, believing there was no other way out of how he was feeling. He set the paper back down on Steve's nightstand and zipped up the lightly packed bag, emotion beginning to overcome him, as he imagined the moment just before his son had obtained the pills, hardly able to bear the thought of how deep in despair he must have been to actively carry out the plan to try to die.

Nicholas picked up the bag and carried it to the living room, noticing the pile of laundry tossed into the hallway, not far from the washing machine. He picked up the jeans Steve had been wearing when he took him to the hospital, searching the back pockets for his son's wallet. Finding only a few loose coins, he put them back with the other dirty clothes and walked to the front door, his eyes searching the and finding only Steve's set of keys on the table next to his own.

Nicholas took his son's keys and went out to his car. Finding it was unlocked, he opened the driver's side door, seeing Steve's wallet between the two front seats with a can of Coke next to it. As he leaned in to pick up the wallet, he saw a paper bag in the passenger seat, a medicine bottle beside it.

Nicholas slid the wallet into his back pocket, gripping the steering wheel, as he reached for both the bottle and the bag. He stared at the medication label, though he didn't need to read it to know what it was and why it was here. He didn't open the cap, afraid to see the emptiness within it that surely mirrored the hopelessness Steve was feeling at the time he bought the pain caplets. Nicholas shoved the bottle into the bag and heard the crunch of paper inside. He reached in and pulled out a receipt from a local store, the date two days ago and the time stamp indicating the purchase must've taken place just after Steve got out of school. He crushed the memento of his son's plan to take his own life in his fist and put it back into the bag.

Nicholas was about to close the car door when he saw several tiny pieces of paper in the driver's seat. He picked up two of them, able to recognize Steve's handwriting and read enough of the ripped apart words to know this was his son's other copy of the plan he'd made with Laura, the list he'd kept with him.

Nicholas imagined Steve tearing up the thoughts and ideas he'd put onto paper to distract his mind, to help him come through the impulses to hurt himself that so often struck. He remembered his son's words about giving up, the truth of that apologetic statement even more real now that he'd held the medication bottle bought for the purpose of ending his life and seen the plan meant to help keep him safe torn to pieces. Nicholas now had a picture in his head of Steve inside his car, taking swallows from a can of Coke, while also consuming enough pills to believe he would go to sleep and never wake up.


	28. Chapter 28

Steve had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and was beside Nicholas on a cushioned bench in a corner of the visiting area. "I guess it's not as bad here as I was afraid it would be, but I hate being watched all the time."

Nicholas nodded, having noticed the security personnel stationed at the locked entrance to the ward of patient rooms and within the areas just outside of it. He saw other patients sitting with visitors, realizing how calm it seemed to be, despite the fact that they must all be experiencing something similar to Steve, quite possibly even worse. "How'd it go with the doctor today?"

"I hate not being able to talk to you alone, Dad."

"We can go back to your room, if you want. I'm allowed to be back there with you, as long as they know where we both are. I just thought you'd want to be out here for a little bit."

"I did. But I'm not comfortable talking about this when all these people are around. At least, in there, it's mostly just the nurses keeping an eye on me."

* * *

Pony eased the oven door open, a mitt on his hand, as he peaked at the chocolate cake that was still baking. "It's just about done, Soda."

Soda grinned at his little brother. "Thanks, Pone."

"I know you're not really feeling it, but I got candles too. We can light them and have cake after you get back from visiting Steve."

Soda saw Darry down the hall, as he entered the bathroom. "Hey, Dar, is it okay with you if I drive your truck to the hospital?"

Darry leaned out of the bathroom doorway, his razor in his hand. "Are you okay to go by yourself, little buddy?"

Soda nodded. "I think so."

Darry disappeared back into the bathroom. "All right."

Soda turned to Pony, who had just taken the cake out of the oven. "Cake smells good, little brother. I can't wait to have a piece."

* * *

Steve saw Lillie look in on him, her smile genuine as she spoke. "Are you okay in here?"

He nodded at her. "Yeah, we're okay."

Lillie searched the room, making brief eye contact with Nicholas, before going back into the hall.

Steve looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his hands. "She's been real nice. But they check on me a lot."

Nicholas put his arm around Steve's shoulders. "Son, I have to say I'm glad they do."

Steve leaned into Nicholas, feeling his dad squeeze him, before he pulled away. "The doctor wasn't so bad, really. He asked a lot of questions. Some of them kind of like what Laura has."

"Okay."

"He got me to tell him about Clara and what happened, then we talked about what's been happening with me lately. The flashbacks and everything."

Nicholas nodded. "That's good."

Steve looked back down at his lap. "He asked me when I first had suicidal thoughts, how often, what helped. Stuff like that."

Nicholas reached for Steve's hand. "Did you tell him everything you needed to about that?"

"Yeah, then we talked about what happened this week. He asked me if I planned to try it again, if I knew how or when or anything."

Nicholas squeezed Steve's hand, his mind going back to the pill bottle in his son's car and the time stamped store receipt. "What did you say?"

Steve shook his head. "No! Dad, I said no. I don't. I'm not thinking that anymore." Tears sprung to his eyes. "But I could understand if you don't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you, Son. I just have to ask because I want to know what's going on in your head." And I want to know before it's almost too late, Nicholas thought.

"Then, he asked if I felt like I could control the impulses and not, you know, hurt myself again."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I" Steve met Nicholas' eyes for a moment, staring into them, before looking down. "don't know. I wanted to say yes. That I would call someone or do anything I have before to try to handle it. But if I got this bad once..."

Nicholas' voice was soft, as he still didn't let go of Steve's hand. "What happened that day, Son?"

"Nothing really different, but it felt worse and-" Steve wiped at his eyes. "I was better for a while, Dad. But sometimes, it all seems worse."

"What does?"

"The flashbacks, the dreams, and even just how I keep feeling inside. It hurts. So, that day, I felt like I'd had enough and did the only thing I could think of doing."

Nicholas pulled Steve into his arms. "I want to help you stop any of this from hurting that much again."

Steve rested his head against his dad's chest, recalling the triggering nightmare and flashback that had stirred within him the reactive desire to act on the urges he'd found ways to resist up until that moment. He squeezed Nicholas tighter, the feelings that had temporarily been pushed to the back of his mind in the aftermath of his suicide attempt coming back fresh, as the images of both actual memories and emotion-filled dreams danced through his still vulnerable thoughts.

* * *

Soda let his head drop onto the steering wheel, his hand still on the key that he'd put in the truck's ignition, but found he couldn't bring himself to turn. He sighed, rolling down the window to let the breeze blow inside the cab, as he pulled the key out of the ignition. "I want to go. I do want to go."

Soda heard a knock on the passenger side window, then the door opened, as Darry's voice spoke to him. "I can go with you, little buddy. I didn't think you'd want to go alone."

Soda looked over at his brother, dropping the keys into his lap. "Why is it this hard, Dar? He's Steve, and it's the hospital. Not like I hadn't been there before, and I was just there yesterday."

"The reason he's there is a lot harder to accept than anything else, Sodapop. It's okay that it's hard too, just so you know."

"I do want to go. I want to see him. I even want to see Nicholas too."

"I know. Let me go tell Pony what I'm doing, and I'll go with you. Just hang on a minute."

* * *

Steve saw Lillie peek into the room, as she passed by again. He nodded at her, then turned back to Nicholas. "What I was going to tell you though, about Dr. Reynolds, is he says he thinks I have this stress reaction thing. I don't remember the exact name, but it's because of the abuse."

Nicholas partially unfolded the blanket he'd brought for Steve, putting it over the foot of the bed. "I think I've heard of something like that before. Did he tell you when you might be able to go home?"

"Maybe a day or two. I think he wants to keep an eye on me for a little bit. He's talking about giving me some kind of medication starting tomorrow."

Nicholas' eyebrows raised. "Did he say what kind?"

Steve shrugged. "Some sort of antidepressant. Started with an "e."

"Is that okay with you?"

"It's not something I'd have wanted to do before, but if it'll help, even just for now, I'll try it." Steve bit his lip, fidgeting with his shirt tail. "Does that bother you?"

"What?" Nicholas gripped Steve's shoulder, as he shook his head. "No. If something might help you, it's fine."

"I told the doctor I'm scared. He was easy enough to talk to. I know I told you I was scared before because I even had these thoughts. But now... Dad, I did this, and I'm afraid the next time I have another nightmare or a flashback, I'll want to hurt myself again."

Nicholas rubbed Steve's shoulder. "I know, Stevie. Believe me, I understand. That scares me more than I can tell you. Did you have a flashback the day you-" He stopped, taking in a deep breath, then letting it out. "the day you took the pills?"

Steve nodded. "I did. In my math class. I even yelled at this kid not to touch me. I had a nightmare too the night before."

"Did something about them make you feel even worse than they have before?"

"Yeah." Steve ran his fingers through his hair, then rested his elbow on his lap, his hand over his face. "But can we talk about all that at home please? They were both real bad, Dad, and I don't want to talk about it here."

* * *

Soda eyed the open door of the visiting area. "You go see him first, Evie. I'll just be out here."

Evie looked at Irene, who was sitting down in one of the chairs in the waiting room near the elevators. "You think it's okay to go in there, Mom?"

Darry spoke up first. "It's fine, Evie. Nicholas said to meet them here, and Steve's allowed visitors right now."

"Go on, honey," Irene said. "It'll be good for both of you to see each other."

Evie nodded, then made her way through the door of the visiting area, noticing the eyes of security personnel scanning the room. She saw Steve on a little couch in the back corner with Nicholas beside him, both of them holding a hand of playing cards.

Steve glanced up, his eyes meeting Evie's, as he put his cards on the table in front of him. He held her gaze for a moment, before his eyes looked down at the carpeted floor.

Evie moved toward him, as Nicholas stood up and nodded at her, a slight grin on his face. She took the now vacant spot next to Steve and reached for his hand. She searched his face when he remained silent and still. "Hi, sweetie. I had to see you."

Steve squeezed Evie's hand. "I'm glad you came. I'm glad you would want to come see me here."

"Of course, I did."

Steve lifted Evie's hand in both of his own, bringing it up to his lips. He kissed it, then held it to his cheek, her fingers brushing over his face. "I'm so sorry, Evie."

"I had no idea you were feeling that bad. When I told you that you didn't look like you felt well, were you already thinking...?"

"Yeah. I was. I knew what I was about to do."

Evie used her free hand to wipe a tear from Steve's cheek. "But why, sweetie? Why would you do that?"

"I just wanted to stop hurting. I haven't been able to feel better, no matter what I do." Steve released Evie's hand. "I thought I'd go to sleep and not wake up. But I just got really sick. I knew I didn't want to die, so that's when I called my dad."

"I'm so glad you guys are in a place now where you could call him. That saved you life. How long are you going to be here?"

"Maybe a couple of days. They really just have to make sure I'm not planning to hurt myself again."

"I need you to know I hope you won't. I love you. We all love you."

Steve leaned closer and kissed Evie's cheek, then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "I know that. I'm not going to do this again. I love you too."

Evie laid her head on Steve's chest, melting into the hug. You have to know how loved you are, she thought. I hope that turns out to be enough for you to never do anything like this again.

"Evie, I hope I didn't mess our relationship up even more. It's already been so hard because of the memories in my head and all of that. I know I scared you and that's not ever-"

Evie pulled away to look into Steve's eyes and put a finger to his lips. "We're still going to do our best. But no matter what happens between us, I promise I'll always care about you."

* * *

Soda grinned at Steve, as he sat down beside him. "You look better than yesterday."

Steve was looking at the hospital bracelet still on his wrist. "I still can't believe I'm here, man." His eyes moved up from the bracelet to Soda. "Happy birthday, buddy. I didn't forget."

"Thanks. I don't feel eighteen."

"Oh? What then?" Steve smiled. "Maybe ten or twelve?"

Soda's mouth opened, then he shook his head, looking away.

Steve squeezed Soda's shoulder. "I'm okay, Sodapop."

Soda sighed. "All right." He looked around the room that held patients and their visitors, most of them talking, just being together. "How is it here?"

"Not too bad. They watch me a lot. But what can I expect, huh? I should be able to go home soon, I think. You remember when I first met Laura and ran away from her?"

"You didn't do that again, did you?"

"Nah. I met the doctor today. I actually talked to him. Nothing too deep. Mostly just answered the questions he asked."

Soda nodded. "Oh. I hope he can help, buddy."

"I think he really wants to help too. And not just because it's his job to do whatever to try to make sure I don't end up hurting myself again."

Soda nodded once more. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"As okay as I'm going to be right now."

"Then, I want to ask you something. Why didn't you come to me or to your dad? Is there some reason you thought you couldn't?"

Steve let out a heavy breath and laid back against the arm of the couch. "No, it isn't that I thought I couldn't. I know I can. I just wasn't thinking like that."

"Was it like that day you told me about when you first picked up the pills, and you said you weren't sure you would've walked away if I hadn't come over?"

"Yeah. It was a lot like that. But worse. I gave up, Sodapop. If I could go back, I'd call my dad or just go to work or something. Anything. I'm sorry."

I wish I could go back, Soda thought. "You don't have to keep apologizing, Stevie. That's not why I asked. Oh. Almost forgot. I'm supposed to tell you Mr. Coleman said don't worry about anything. You still have a job when you can come back."

"Good to know. As much as I want to go home, thinking about going back to work and school is terrifying, man. Especially school."

"I'm sure." Soda put a hand on Steve's back. "I know I've said this. But I still want to tell you I'm so glad you're okay. I can't say it enough."

Steve touched Soda's arm. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

* * *

Steve looked at the clock he could see on the wall above the nurse's station. "Damn. I wish I could have a cigarette."

Nicholas watched the minute hand that seemed so still, then turned his eyes to Steve. "You know I don't want to, Son. But I have to go."

"I'll be okay. You deserve to go home and sleep in your own bed tonight anyway."

Nicholas stared at Steve. "Someone can still call if you need me."

"I know. I'll be all right."

Nicholas still stared at his son. "I hate leaving you here."

"Staring at me like that won't change it, Dad."

Nicholas blinked, sighing. "I just can't get over how glad I am you're still with me."

* * *

Darry pushed the knife into the cake, the bright orange frosting splitting into slices of color. "Pony, where did you even find frosting this color? It's brighter than a traffic cone." He put a piece on a plate and handed it to Soda.

"Well, it had to be like Soda," Pony said, putting some forks down on the table.

"I'm brighter than a traffic cone?" Soda asked, his mouth full of cake.

"I don't mean like the color," Pony said. "Just that everyone can't help but notice you."

Darry nodded, a slice of cake on the plate in front of him. "He's right, little buddy."

Soda grinned. "I guess I do stand out in a crowd."

Pony served himself some cake, as he chuckled. "You know what would make you stand out even more?"

"I'm afraid to ask what he's thinking," Darry said.

"What, Pone?" Soda asked.

"We could dye your hair that color," Pony said, taking a bite of the cake.

Soda raised an eyebrow. "I ain't sharing a bottle of shampoo with you anymore."

* * *

Nicholas held the Bible on his lap, finding the green ribbon bookmark still keeping a place in 1 Kings 19. His eyes scanned the scriptures that told about Elijah's despair, his prayer for God to take him, and the Lord's compassionate response. "I need to tell you thank you, God. You did take care of Steve too. You still are. Help me know what to say, what to do."

Nicholas moved on the the next part of Elijah's story, the scene describing the still, small voice, the sound that was God's presence in the near silence. He thought back to how Steve had told him he would be all right tonight. He hoped he would, but he still hated being away from his son all night after what had taken place this week. Nicholas wanted to be there with Steve to protect him, listen to him, and make sure he knew he was loved. He wanted to be able to see him, touch him, hold him, both for his son's sake and his own. Nicholas needed to remind himself the worst hadn't happened, even though his heart kept telling him this had still been too close to his greatest fear becoming reality. "God, be with Steve tonight, even though I can't. I can't help but worry, but please stay with him."

* * *

Soda stood in front of the open refrigerator, his hand on the door. "Hey, Darry, what happened to the beer?"

Darry looked up from the newspaper he was reading for a moment. "I never bought more, little buddy. I'd rather not worry about you overdoing it."

Soda closed the refrigerator. "But I didn't overdo it."

"You were getting close."

Soda rolled his eyes. "No wonder you've got gray hair."

Darry put the newspaper down on the table and looked at his middle brother, letting his tone grow more serious. "It ain't about the amount, Sodapop. It's about why."

"Why what?"

"Why you want to drink in the first place."

Soda shrugged. "I just do. Geesh, Dar, it ain't like I'm throwing back whole bottles of liquor or something."

"You just do, huh? Why?"

"I guess it doesn't matter, does it?" Soda sighed, shaking his head, as he walked outside.

* * *

Steve stared at the ceiling, the silence engulfing his hospital room. "I hate for it to be this quiet." He turned his head, seeing the dim lights in the hallway that brought just a slight glow into his room.

Steve looked at the plain table next to his bed, seeing the book of crossword puzzles his dad had brought him. He picked it up, along with the red marker next to it. He took the cap off the marker, the tip of it a reminder of why he was here, of the fact that he wasn't even allowed a pen or pencil that might be sharp.

Opening the book to the first puzzle, Steve read over the clues:

Instrument from the woodwind family with a cyndrilical tube and a flared bell (8 ltrs.)

If a substance is transparent, it is _ (5 ltrs.)

Steve filled in the first box with eight letters, forming the word "clarinet." He moved on to the next one, writing "clear." The next two clues were:

Not life, but _ (5 ltrs.)

Not a man, but still a _ (3 ltrs.)

Steve filled in the word "death," then the word "boy." He looked at the next two clues, the silence becoming suffocating in the mostly dark room:

to defy or challenge someone to do something (4 ltrs.)

to feel interest or concern; to look out for (4 ltrs.)

Steve's nurse for the night, Ruth, looked in, just as he wrote down the word "dare" followed by "care." He gripped the marker, pressing the tip into the paper and making the redness bleed into it.

"You should get some rest," Ruth said. "Is there anything you need? It's pretty quiet around here tonight."

Steve looked up from the puzzle, his eyes staring at the wall. The words he'd written in response to the clues were still fresh in his mind, but the emotions he was experiencing were a product of the past. He left the book open on his lap, setting the marker down on top of it, his legs covered with a sheet and blanket, and the pillow tucked behind his back.

"Steve?" Ruth asked, stepping closer.

Steve looked at Ruth, as he drew his knees up to his chest, securing his arms around them. His eyes met the nurse's, but her brown eyes became the green ones that had lingered on him in the dark when he was a young boy, a child only wanting to be loved.

Steve hid his face in his lap, trying to breathe deeply. "Please leave me alone. Please don't do that."

Ruth held up both of her hands, her voice soft but firm. "It's okay, Steve. I won't come any closer."

Steve didn't look at her, closing his eyes against the memories reeling through his mind, like a film made of moments that were forever burned into his brain. "Please go away. Don't hurt me anymore. I'll be good."

Ruth stayed in the same spot, her feet not moving on the tiled floor. "I would never hurt you, Steve. No one here wants to hurt you."

Steve shivered and felt the blanket beneath his fingers, the blanket his dad had brought from home. He blinked, his eyes opening. "Ruth?"

"Are you with me now? It's okay, Steve. Nothing is happening here."

Steve kept his head down, his arms still wrapped around his legs, but he turned slightly to meet Ruth's brown eyes. "Can you do something for me?"

"I hope I can. What do you need, hon?"

"Can you please call my dad? I just need to hear his voice. That's all."

* * *

Nicholas wasn't asleep when the phone rang, but he couldn't help the jolt of panic, like an electric current shooting through him. He hurried to grab the phone receiver before it could even ring twice. "Hello."

"Hi, is this Nicholas Randle?"

"Yes, it is. Who's calling?"

"This is Ruth at St. John's hospital, and I'm your son, Steve's, nurse for tonight. He's okay. But he wants to talk to you."

Nicholas felt his heart pound, even though Ruth had said Steve was okay, and her tone didn't hold a note of bad or serious news. "Okay. Please."

He only had to wait a moment, before he heard Steve's soft, unsure voice. "Dad?"

Nicholas let out a breath. "Yeah, Son? You okay?"

"I think so. But I- I had a flashback. So I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"I'm sorry that happened. Was there anyone with you to help?"

"Ruth was with me. I told her I wanted to call you. I hope I didn't wake you up or anything."

"You didn't, Son. That doesn't matter anyway."

"I just needed to hear your voice."

Nicholas heard a slight crack in Steve's voice and wished he could hug him. "It's okay. I'm glad to talk to you."

"It came out of nowhere, Dad. I was just doing this crossword puzzle, and it was so dark and quiet."

"But you got through it. I'm glad you weren't alone."

* * *

Soda was sliding a birthday card he'd received back into its envelope when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. "Yeah?"

The door opened and Darry peeked inside. "Hey, Soda, I just wanted to tell you-"

Soda tossed the card onto the bed and turned over on his side, facing away from Darry. "Tell me what? That you're worrying too damn much?"

Darry sighed, stepping fully into the room. "No. Actually, I just wanted to let you know to get up a few minutes earlier tomorrow. I have to be at my job site a little sooner in the morning."

"Oh."

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you. I just think you're looking too much into what I do."

"Sodapop, you gave me reason to do that not very long ago."

"Stop it, Darry. Please."

The bed sank in, as Darry sat down next to his brother. "Little buddy, I have to look out for you."

Soda hid his face in the pillow. "I know."

Darry put his hand on Soda's back. "You wouldn't answer me when I asked you why you want to drink, and that leads me to believe it's not just to relax, like it has been before." He felt his brother tense under his touch. "So did the way you talked the last time you were drinking."

"Yeah. I remember some of the shit I said. Who knows what I'd say now."

Darry grinned. "Probably something else about the Man in the Moon."

Soda turned over to see his brother. "I'm sorry I've been snappy, Dar. I'm not trying to be a jerk."

"It's okay. If you need to be a jerk or be mad, I can handle it. You ain't scary."

Soda grinned a little. "I'm just still upset, and I can't explain why."

"Damn, Sodapop, I'd have a harder time explaining why you wouldn't be."

"No, I mean, I have this" Soda put his hand to his chest, his fist clenching the front of his shirt. "feeling I don't understand. I had it before- well, before this week, but it's worse."

A/N: The stress reaction Steve refers to is stress response syndrome, one of the many, many old terms before "PTSD" was coined.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this one:) This chapter took turns I didn't expect at the beginning of it, and like they often do, characters surprised me! If you're so inclined, I'd particularly love and appreciate feedback on this one.

Steve's eyes widened. "I can go home today? Really?" He sat up straighter on the bed, looking at Dr. Reynolds, then at his dad, who had just entered the room.

Dr. Reynolds smiled at his patient's reaction. "Yes. Really. As I said, I have no medical basis to keep you here any longer." His expression became more serious. "However, I still need to see you."

Nicholas spoke up next. "How often?"

"At least once a week," Dr. Reynolds said.

"Is that because of the medication you gave me this morning?" Steve asked.

Dr. Reynolds nodded. "Partially. But I also want to monitor you for any signs that could indicate you're at risk of harming yourself again."

Nicholas sat down beside Steve, still looking at the doctor. "What did you give him?"

"It's an antidepressant called Elavil. It might help relieve some of Steve's anxiety, help him sleep better, and generally feel better overall."

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. "All it's done so far is make me want to sleep."

"It can definitely cause drowsiness," Dr. Reynolds said. "If that gets to be a problem, you can switch to taking it at night. But it should wear off. You may also experience headaches or slight dizziness. But you're on a small dose, so nothing too problematic."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Man, I've already had all of that before."

"Could this medicine help with the flashbacks?" Nicholas asked.

"It might make them less severe or less frequent," Dr. Reynolds said. "but eliminating the flashes of intrusive memories associated with the type of syndrome Steve is experiencing is more likely over time and through counseling. However, I believe-"

Steve interrupted Dr. Reynolds' words. "There's no way to make that stop, is there?"

Dr. Reynolds' face softened. "It's about coping, Steve, and if you feel better otherwise, they'll be less distressing to you."

Nicholas rubbed Steve's back, watching him. "It's okay, Son. They got better before, remember? You just hit a tough spot."

Steve nodded, his eyes on the tile floor. "What about the suicidal thoughts? Can the medicine help with that?"

"Possibly," Dr. Reynolds replied. "Again, it's about coping, and if you're less anxious and better rested, even if you do still have them, you'll be less likely to harm yourself."

"So when am I going home then?" Steve asked.

"This afternoon." Dr. Reynolds said. "I'll set up an appointment for you for next week. With your consent, I also need to put in a call to the counselor you've been seeing. We certainly need to be working together to help you."

* * *

Steve stood in front of a ping-pong table in the recreation area that was situated not far away from the locked ward of patient rooms. He picked up one of the tiny white balls and bounced it on the green surface of the table, using a paddle to keep it going. He listened to the ball bounce, a click, click, click going through his ears, the object moving almost rhythmically. He let the ball bounce away from him and across the table, watching it stop just in front of the low net.

Steve still held the paddle in his hand, as he let his eyes glance around the room. Across from him were two fellow patients, a man and a woman, hovering over a chess board. They moved the crafted pieces, their focus on game strategy, regardless of the reason they found themselves here. Steve didn't believe either of them were much older than he was, though he was completely aware of the fact that he, in his couple of days on this floor, had intentionally avoided speaking to any of the other patients. He didn't desire to be known or even seen, not wanting anyone else to look into his eyes and possibly know the pain and emotions that he believed must be visible to any human being who dared to stare long or deep enough.

Steve let his gaze wander down to his feet, his lace-less shoes a symbol of what had brought him here to this hospital three days before. Nicholas would be coming soon to take him home, back to a normal daily schedule with no visitor restrictions, to eyes not watching him around the clock, to his own bed behind an unlocked bedroom door, to his belongings no one would confiscate for safety. Steve imagined going home, life he'd attempted to stop moving on, trying to go forward, despite how the past made him travel backward in time.

He set the ping-pong paddle down on the table and looked to his left, noticing a man who appeared to be quite a bit older than his own eighteen years. He sat at a table with a puzzle in front of him. Steve could see what he would guess must be nearly a thousand pieces, though many of the edges were already together. The man still had an IV connected to him, the pole at his side, and Steve saw scars on his arms, scars he could imagine were evidence of a battle that led the man here. Though he would never ask and had no desire to share his own pain with the other patients on this floor, he wondered if the man doing the puzzle had tried to take his own life. He wondered how many of the people here had done something to harm themselves, their intent the same as his own.

Steve looked to his right, his eyes briefly meeting those of the man in a security uniform, who stood close to the door. He then stared at the door itself, the one that opened back to the neutral part of the floor that would lead to either the inpatient rooms and other supervised common areas, or the elevator that served to connect the world up here with the world down there that promised both freedom and fear.

* * *

As the Randles' house came into view, Steve couldn't take his eyes off it. His dad's car, the pavement moving beneath the turning tires, finished the distance to bring them home.

Nicholas shifted the car into park. "All right there, Son?"

Steve nodded. "It just feels like it's been a lot longer, and the last time I was home..." He trailed off, as his gaze landed on his car.

Nicholas saw Steve's hand go to his chest, laying flat against it. He reached for his son's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay."

Steve kept his hand against his chest, taking deep, even breaths, though he couldn't tear his eyes from the Ford he drove to school and work, the car he fixed when it needed repairs, the one that now held within it the memory of his most painful moment.

* * *

Soda held up the basketball that was in Steve's room, spinning it on his finger. "Hey, man, look at this."

Steve glanced at the spinning ball, though he didn't turn his head. "That's great, man."

Soda tucked the ball under his arm, watching Steve. "Want to go out and play? It might help you."

Steve shrugged. "I'm fine."

"You look like you need to get out of your head. You keep staring at everything, Stevie. Like you don't believe it's real or something."

"I just feel funny, Sodapop. It's weird to be home after..." Steve trailed off, closing his eyes.

Soda set the basketball down, going to his friend's side. He put an arm around Steve's shoulders, giving him a slight squeeze. "Come on, buddy, let's go outside. It can't help either that you've been stuck inside all the time for days."

Steve opened his eyes after a moment, finally looking at Soda. "Okay. You're probably right." He followed Soda out of the bedroom and down the hall, past the bathroom and Nicholas' open door. He started to step outside to join his friend on the front porch, but paused when the phone rang. Steve kept his hand on the open front door, his eyes staring at the source of the sound.

Nicholas picked up the receiver. "Hello." He listened for a few moments, then noticed Steve looking in his direction. "Hold on a minute." He covered the speaker with his hand, then looked at his son. "What's wrong, Steve?"

Steve blinked, shaking his head. "Nothing, Dad." He stepped outside, the door closing behind him.

* * *

"Yeah, I'll be in on Monday," Nicholas said into the phone receiver. "Thank you. Bye." He started to hang up, but stopped, holding the phone in mid-air, as his eyes landed on the bottle of Steve's prescription medication.

He hung up the receiver and went toward the counter, picking up the medicine that may or may not help Steve. Nicholas read the label, remembering Dr. Reynolds saying it could cause the drowsiness his son had already experienced.

He could see Steve through the window, with a cigarette in his hand, the words his son had spoken about going to sleep and not waking up forever engraved in his mind. Nicholas decided, given the circumstances and Steve's intention when he overdosed just days before, that he would hold onto the medicine. He would give his son one of the pills each day, making sure to keep the rest of the bottle away from him.

* * *

Soda sat on the porch swing. "So I think I'm going to take her out tomorrow night, as long as-" He stopped, noticing Steve hadn't responded to him at all, only standing and puffing on a cigarette. "Hey, Stevie, better look out. I think the sky is falling."

Steve blew out a breath of smoke. "Huh?"

"I was just trying to get your attention."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You got a right to be spaced out, man. But if you need to talk, we can, you know."

Steve put out his cigarette, then sat down next to Soda. "I don't think I knew being home was going to be this hard."

"It makes sense that it is though. You've been through an awful lot."

Steve turned his head, meeting Soda's eyes. "You know, I kind of wish one of you would just go ahead and yell at me already."

"I don't want to yell at you. I know that ain't what you need."

"But I sure wouldn't blame you or my dad if you did. Evie either. I hurt myself even more, man. Since I got home, all I can think about is that day. Everywhere I look, it's like I can see myself getting here, then everything after that."

Soda leaned forward, resting his elbows in his lap, as he looked right at Steve. "It was only a few days ago, and you got to give yourself more than a day of being back home, buddy. You're okay, and that's what matters the most."

* * *

Steve stood in Nicholas' bedroom doorway. "Hey, Dad, do you know where I put my medicine?"

Nicholas sat down on the bed. "I put it away, Son. I'll give you one pill to take in the morning."

"Oh." Steve looked away from his dad. "I guess- I guess I should've expected that after..."

Nicholas patted the spot next to him. "Come sit with me, Son."

Steve sat down beside Nicholas, and before another word could be spoken, he put his arms around his dad, squeezing him. "Thank you, Dad. For coming when I called you, for saving me, even though I screwed up."

Nicholas held Steve, rubbing circles on his back. "I'll always help you. No matter what happens or what you do, I'm here."

Steve remained in the embrace. "I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about what I did." His voice started to tremble. "Or where or how sick I got."

Nicholas brought a hand up to stroke the back of Steve's head. "I'm so glad to have you home with me."

"Can I tell you some stuff?" Steve pulled away from the hug, but stayed close. "What I was thinking about?"

"Of course." Nicholas rubbed Steve's face, unwilling to break the physical contact. "I want to know, and you need to talk about it."

"The nightmare that I had," Steve's voice became nearly a whisper. "it was about Clara's death."

"I didn't know that's been bothering you again."

"I didn't really either, but I guess it must be or-" Steve crossed his legs on the bed, tucking his hands under them, his voice growing quiet once more. "Except, the way it was in the dream, I know it didn't happen like that."

"What happened in it?"

Steve swallowed, squeezing his eyes closed against tears. "I was trying to get away from her. She wouldn't leave me alone or let go. I pulled away and pushed at her. She fell and- I don't know. The next thing I knew, she was dead."

Nicholas put hand on Steve's back and leaned forward, so they were face to face. "You know it's not your fault she died, right? You didn't do that at all."

Steve's eyes opened, hot tears falling down his face. "I know. I just still feel like it is sometimes though."

"So you were thinking about that and what else? You told me you had a flashback at school."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. After that, I went outside for a little while." He felt Nicholas wipe away the fresh tears, then reached for his hand, as he kept talking, the afternoon he decided he'd had enough a day he couldn't forget. "And I was already thinking I didn't want to do it anymore. I did go to my last class, but even after that, I didn't feel any better."

Nicholas held onto Steve's hand that had taken his, keeping his voice soft. "Son, what about that flashback was worse? What hurt so much?"

"I hate that happening in class anyway, but this is the worst memory I have." Steve looked down at their intertwined hands, swallowing. "You know, the one that was the hardest for me to tell you about? I was sitting there trying to write down these equations, and I could feel her hands on me. I could hear her all over again." Steve felt himself tense, even as the words still came from his lips. "I could feel when she kissed me and when she wouldn't let go of me." His eyes looked up, meeting Nicholas'. "I just wanted to get away from that, Dad. I didn't want to remember anymore."

Nicholas wrapped his arms around Steve, enveloping him in another hug. "I know. I know you were hurting."

Steve let the sobs shake him, his head laying against Nicholas' chest. "So I left school and... I'm sorry I didn't do something else instead."

"Shh. You're okay now." Nicholas kept his arms around Steve, just holding him for several moments before he said anything else. "I don't want you to think I'm mad at you because I'm not. But why didn't you do something else, like you have before?"

Steve spoke over his tears, hugging Nicholas tighter, as he tried to put that terrible day's state of mind into words. "I couldn't see another way out. All I could think about was not remembering anymore, not trying to live with this pain anymore."

* * *

Nicholas lay awake, his head propped up on his hand, as he stared at Steve, who had gone to sleep next to him. There were faded traces of tear tracks still on his face, the visible evidence of the internal struggle he'd expressed to Nicholas earlier in the night.

Nicholas had tried to sleep himself, but was unable to do so, Steve's words about not seeing another way out still playing through his mind. He wanted to believe his son wouldn't harm himself again, that this attempt to take his life made him know he wanted to live, even if it meant continuing to cope with the persistent pain. Nicholas knew, without needing to ask, what memory Steve was talking about when he said it was his worst one. He clearly remembered his son coming to him and revealing the rest of what he'd suffered when Clara lived under their roof.

For Steve to have experienced a flashback that brought back to life the part of the abuse that had been most difficult to face and to be thinking about Clara's death, guilt weaving with memories to create a horrific nightmare, he must've felt overwhelmed to a point that seemed impossible to get through. It wasn't difficult for Nicholas to understand how he had felt so desperate, hopeless and unable to see anything other than the darkness beckoning him to surrender to it.

Nicholas continued to watch Steve, the rise and fall of his chest bringing solace to him, the even breathing a reminder he still lived, even though he'd acted on the impulses that made him question his desire to go on, the turmoil clouding his vision. Nicholas didn't want to imagine his son getting to the point of trying to end his life again, but he knew the possibility was real. He knew it could happen again and turn out tragically. He felt a shiver of helplessness, knowing he'd done all he could before, yet Steve had still attempted to die.

Nicholas laid a hand on Steve's shoulder, keeping his touch light, as as not to disturb him. He spoke in a whisper. "Please forgive me, Son, that it got that bad. I love you more than you could ever know." He closed his eyes and leaned his head softly against his son's, as he prayed in a quiet voice, a plea to heaven for him to always be able to see the ray of light that was hope, despite the pain and memories. "Father, in the name of Jesus..."

* * *

Samuel closed the bedroom door, Vivian fast asleep in the bed he'd just left. He slipped into the spare room, turning on a lamp, before he lifted open the top of a wooden chest that had become a place they stored many of Matthew's things. The room had once been his, though now there were only subtle clues that a little boy had claimed it as his own for a very short three years.

Samuel was uncertain what he was looking for, but he felt a need to be connected to his son. He wanted to see and touch the belongings that were the proof of the living, breathing little boy who had been his own. He looked into the wooden chest, the photo albums, toys, and books staring back at him. He saw the old Mr. Potato Head, the ViewMaster, and the toy school bus with little people still in it. Matthew had played with all of them, but Samuel didn't have to think twice to know the favorite among them was a set of toy trains.

_Matthew lined several blocks up on the floor, the wooden rectangles creating a track on the carpet. He put two of his toy trains on his created track, moving them along, as his small voice sang "chugga chugga choo choo." He picked up more of his blocks and stood them up on each side of the track, then boxed the two trains in by placing blocks on top._

_ Samuel looked in on his son, noticing the block creation. "Hey, buddy, what are you building today?"_

_ Matthew ran up and hugged his dad. "Daddy! It's a tunnel for the train!" Releasing Samuel, he turned off his bedroom light, then fetched a flashlight from beside his toy box._

_ Samuel watched as Matthew turned on the flashlight, then shone it around the room, the glow landing on the walls and floor, then on the tunnel._

_ Matthew got down on his knees and peered at the two trains, then shone the flashlight inside the tunnel. "Hey, Daddy, I can help these trains see where they're going!"_

_ Samuel kneeled down next to Matthew. "You sure can! Where are these trains going anyway?"_

_ Matthew shone the flashlight on the track just outside the tunnel, the blocks glowing in the darkness. "Oh! They're going to go far, Daddy! I'm going to make the track go really high. All the way to the sky!"_

_ Samuel smiled, watching Matthew set the flashlight down, then move the trains a little further along the track. "Oh yeah? That high?"_

_ Matthew picked the flashlight back up, making it shine on the ceiling, as he held his arms up high over his head. "Yeah! All the way to Heaven, Daddy!"_

Samuel picked up a toy train, rolling it along the floor, as a tear went down his cheek. "You did it, buddy. You went all the way to Heaven."

* * *

Vivian drew the curtains open, morning light coming into the kitchen, as Samuel kissed her on the cheek. His voice pulled her into the present. "I'll see you this afternoon, honey."

Vivian turned her head and took Samuel's hand, before he could walk away. "Are you okay?"

Samuel took a deep breath. "I just miss Matthew."

Vivian squeezed his hand. "Me too."

"I always do, but since I talked to Nicholas at the hospital..."

"It was hard for you to hear about his son, wasn't it?"

"Yes. It was. Because I can imagine all too well how both of them are feeling right now."

* * *

Steve awoke with a jolt, his heart pounding as he looked around Nicholas' room. He took in his surroundings, beginning to relax in the knowledge that he was alive. He touched his stomach, noting the absence of pain or nausea. He touched his chest, his heart rate slowing down, but still steady with the rhythm of life.

Steve sat up, lifting the sheet and comforter off his legs, as he slid out of the bed. He walked out of the room and down the hall, finding his dad in the kitchen.

Nicholas looked up from the mug of coffee he was spooning sugar into. "Morning, Son. You looked like you were sleeping good all night."

Steve nodded, as he opened a cabinet. "Medicine does help with that, I guess." He took out a glass and filled it with orange juice.

Nicholas took a sip of coffee. "What do you want to do today?"

Steve shrugged, taking a swallow of juice. "I probably need to see if I can catch up on some school work. I should call Mr. Coleman too."

"He'll be glad to have you back."

"You could've gone back to work today, Dad."

I'm not ready to leave you yet, Nicholas thought. "It's fine. I'll go in on Monday."

Steve looked out the window, his back to Nicholas. "Are you coming with me to see Laura on Monday too?"

I'll be by your side as much as I can, Nicholas thought. "Of course I am, Son." I swear I'll catch you if you even start to fall.

* * *

Steve unlocked his car and took a slow breath, as he pulled open the driver's side door. His moment of desperation and twisted hope for the relief of death drifted back to him, and he could hear his own voice with its plea to God. He could see the open bottle of medication he'd held, the pills staring back at him and daring him to finish acting on the impulse, to take them up on their dark offer of eternal sleep.

Steve forced his eyes to the backseat, imagining that he couldn't feel the pills he had shoved in his mouth or taste the Coke that had helped so many of the caplets go down his throat. He reached for his backpack and pulled it out of the car, then closed the door on the memories, before locking them up with the key.

* * *

Samuel got out of his car, a white carnation in his hand. He followed the grassy path to the familiar marker in an area of the cemetery reserved for the graves of children.

He kneeled down, laying the flower of pure love and innocence next to Matthew's engraved name. "Hi, buddy. I know you're busy up there with God, but I'm sorry I haven't been coming. I miss you so much, my son."

Samuel's eyes skimmed over the epitaph on the marker: "Eternally loved son, the treasure of our hearts." He looked up at the sky, at the white clouds hovering over this place that symbolized the eternal rest of Heaven, as he spoke to Matthew. "I know I don't have to come here to talk to you, but it's the closest I can get to having you by my side again."

* * *

Soda knocked on Steve's open door. "Hey, what are you up to, buddy?"

Steve didn't answer, only staring at a page of notebook paper, his eyes roaming over the numbers and letters that formed the math equations.

Soda drew closer, coming to stand just behind Steve. "What are you looking at, man?"

Steve blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut, his math notebook still open in his lap. "Soda?" He felt his friend touch his shoulder. "You told me to come to you if I needed to, right?"

"Of course, buddy. What's wrong?"

Steve looked at Soda, then down at the paper again, the equations now making him think of the shame he felt, of the moment he told God he didn't want to do it anymore.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so. I just can't look at this right now."

Soda glanced at the notebook, his hand still on Steve's shoulder. "What is it?"

Steve closed the notebook, the equations now hidden from sight. "Just math."

* * *

Samuel slammed the door to the church office, his heart beginning to pound. "God, you didn't have to take him! You didn't have to let me feel like this!"

He pressed his shoulder against the closed door, his breathing becoming heavier. "He'd be eight years old now. Why couldn't you let him live? Or stop me from ever walking away?"

Samuel looked around the small room, one he'd been in many times before to work on a sermon or to pray. "I'm angry again, God. I miss him. I miss my son, and I'm mad that he's not here. I'm mad that I didn't save him."

* * *

Soda tossed a Coke to Steve, before opening his own drink and sitting down at the table. "You sure you're okay?"

Steve nodded, as he popped open the Coke and slowly took a sip, the taste making his stomach begin to turn.

"Did you call Mr. Coleman yet?"

Steve swallowed, the carbonated liquid going down his throat, as he dropped into the chair beside Soda. He put the drink down, staring at it.

"Does it taste funny or something?"

Steve still stared at the can, then his eyes moved to the window, once again looking at his car.

Soda leaned forward, getting right into Steve's line of vision. "What is it, buddy?"

Steve startled, then got to his feet and poured the Coke down the drain. "Nothing. This just doesn't taste right anymore. That's all."

* * *

"Well, of course, we can walk," Evie said, taking Steve's offered hand and letting the front door close. "I'm just used to you driving. You usually like to."

Steve shrugged, leading Evie off her front porch. "I didn't feel like it tonight. So what do you want to do?"

"We could walk down to the creek or go grab something to eat. I'm just happy to spend time with you."

Steve still held Evie's hand, as they started to go down the sidewalk together. "It feels good to be out. I've only been at my house and the hospital since..."

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. I'm not thinking about "Steve looked down at the concrete underneath his feet. "doing that again, if that's what you mean."

"You're going to be okay, sweetie."

Steve looked at Evie, a small grin on his face. "How do you know?"

Evie grinned back at him. "I just do."

* * *

Soda put his arm around Suzie's waist and felt her lean against him, her head on his shoulder. He tilted her chin up, her eyes meeting his, as he kissed her lips.

Suzie kissed him back, closing her eyes, the movie playing on the drive-in screen in front of them forgotten.

Soda slipped his tongue into Suzie's mouth, as he gently pushed her down onto the seat, hovering above her.

Suzie broke the kiss, holding Soda's face in her hands. "It's so good to be with you again."

Soda stroked her cheek, then threaded a finger through her blond hair. "It's good to be with you again too." He closed his eyes, leaning down to continue kissing her. Even as his lips locked with hers, he remembered, and a pang of worry made him freeze.

Suzie rubbed her hands up and down Soda's shoulders. "Something wrong, Sodapop?"

Soda looked into her eyes, as he shook his head, even though his mind had created a movie of its own, one made of memories and fear. He kissed Suzie again, an attempt to hide from a deeply troubling sense of alarm.

* * *

Steve leaned back against the tree that stood behind him, his eyes drifting up to see the branches that were nearly free of leaves. "Is it okay if we don't talk or anything?"

Evie breathed in the cool evening air, as she laid her head on Steve's shoulder. "Sure. We can just sit here. We don't have to talk."

Steve looked at the creek that wasn't far from them, noticing how peaceful the water seemed to be. He sighed, laying his head on Evie's, so her hair brushed up against his cheek. I want to feel that calm inside, he thought. "Evie, you told me you believe God listens to us."

Evie nodded, her eyes drifting up to see Steve's face. "Yes. I do."

"Then, please pray for me."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N Okay, so I've been arguing with myself about posting this because I just updated two days ago, but here we are (next chapter is still in the making, so I tell myself it'll be longer in between next time...)! My heart goes so much into this story, but this chapter in particular, I poured my whole heart into, and it's such an important one within the aftermath of everything going on with these characters. Like the last chapter, I particularly love and adore feedback:)

Nicholas watched Pastor David pace around the front of the church, the Bible held open in his hands, as he read Romans 8:38-39:

"For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Nicholas looked down at his own Bible he had also turned to the book of Romans. He listened to Pastor David expounding upon the scripture, preaching about God's love and how it's the kind of love without conditions, the kind of divine love that never changes. The pastor then asked the congregation to turn to 1 John 4, as he started to read verses seven through ten:

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God, and he who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God; for God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the expiation for our sins."

Nicholas glanced over at Steve, who was sitting next to him. He saw a tear go down his son's cheek, then spoke in a whisper. "Are you okay, Son?"

Steve wiped the tear away, trying to hold back more, as he nodded.

Nicholas slid an arm around Steve's shoulders and drew closer, speaking into his ear. "If you need to go, we can."

Steve shook his head, taking a breath before whispering back. "No. I'll tell you at home."

* * *

Samuel smiled at Steve. "I'm glad you came back. It's good to know I didn't scare you away."

Steve grinned at him. "Like you could be scary." He looked past Samuel, noticing Grace at the front of the church, as he spoke quietly. "Why do I think I know her?"

Nicholas tried to follow Steve's eyes. "Who, Son?"

Steve rubbed his eyes, shaking away the same familiarity that had struck him before. "It's just... The pastor's wife looks familiar to me or something."

Samuel's eyes widened, as he looked between his friends and Grace.

Nicholas looked at Grace, then shrugged, missing the expression on Samuel's face. "Maybe a little. I don't know."

Steve turned back to Samuel. "I uh, actually kind of like it here, I guess. I really did listen when you talked last week. I believe what you said about God caring and all that."

Samuel patted Steve's shoulder. "That's great to hear."

Steve grinned again. "Yeah, I guess you're not just the preacher guy my dad talks to."

Nicholas chuckled, as he spoke to Samuel. "He wouldn't call you that if he didn't like you, you know."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure if he didn't like me, he could come up with much worse." He looked at Steve. "So what am I then?"

Steve thought for a moment, as his eyes noticed Grace walking past them. "I guess you're a preacher guy I like to listen to."

* * *

Soda groaned when the bed covers were snatched off of him. "Let me sleep, Darry," he mumbled.

Darry sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "You need to get up, Sodapop. It's after noon. What'd you do? Stay up all night or something?"

Soda squeezed his eyes closed, rolling over. "Not _all _night."

"Oh? Only half of it then?"

"Something like that. It ain't a big deal."

"I saw you go to bed, little buddy. How were you up half the night?"

Soda yawned, pulling the blanket back over himself. "Just was. But I'm fine."

Darry watched his half asleep little brother. "I'm going to go make some pancakes. Sound good?"

"Hmmm...Sure."

"All right then. Sleep a little longer."

Soda kept his eyes closed, giving in to tiredness. "K. Don't worry 'bout me, Dar. I'm okay."

* * *

"Hey, Stevie, want a pancake?" Soda asked, as he covered his own breakfast in maple syrup.

Steve picked up a plate, serving himself a pancake. "You look like you just rolled out of bed, man."

Soda spoke over a mouthful of food. "That's cause I did."

Steve cut up the pancake, then took a bite. "I got a favor to ask."

"Anything, buddy. You know that."

Steve tapped his fork against the plate, staring down at the food. "I called Mr. Coleman, but he didn't answer. Or actually, I might not have let the phone ring enough to give him a chance."

Soda tilted his head sideways, fork in mid-air. "Whatever you need, just ask."

"I guess I got nervous." Steve looked up at Soda. "Would you come with me to talk to him?"

Soda grinned. "Of course, I will. Let's just finish eating, then I'll go get dressed."

* * *

Soda stood behind Steve, his hand on his shoulder. "Just go in and talk to him."

Steve nodded, opening the door that led to the garage. He stepped inside, then saw Mr. Coleman underneath a car.

Soda followed Steve inside, but stayed by the door. He nodded at his friend.

Steve went to stand a few feet away from Mr. Coleman. "Sir?"

Mr. Coleman rolled out from underneath the car and sat up on the creeper, as he shot his employee a smile. "Oh! It's good to see you, Steve!"

Steve shifted his feet. "I, um, just wanted to see when I can come back to work."

"I'll have you scheduled Tuesday afternoon, just like always. Are you doing all right?"

"I think so, Sir. I guess I'm working on it anyway."

Mr. Coleman nodded. "Glad to hear it." He pointed to the toolbox near Steve, as he got to his feet. "Can you hand me the wrench from in there?"

Steve bent down and picked up the wrench, stepping closer to hand it to his boss.

Mr. Coleman took the tool, then grasped Steve's hand with his own, giving it a firm shake. "Please take care of yourself. You hear me?"

* * *

Steve picked up a card from the stack on the Curtis' back porch, then laid down a matching pair. "Why are we playing 'Go Fish,' man?"

Soda shrugged. "Why not? Got any sevens?"

Steve looked at the cards in his hands. "Go fish."

Soda picked a card from the stack, followed by another, then laid down a matching pair.

Steve saw Pony open the back door, speaking to his brother. "Hey, Soda. Darry's busy with something right now, but he told me he wants you to iron some of his shirts for him. He left them out for you."

Soda nodded. "Okay, Pone."

Steve caught Pony's eyes, then looked away. "Hey, Kid."

Pony grinned. "Hey, Steve. I- Uh, I'm real glad you're okay. I want you to know that."

Steve felt Soda's eyes on him, as he bit his lip, then met Pony's eyes. "Thanks, Kid."

Pony grinned at Steve again, before closing the back door, disappearing inside the house.

Steve set his cards down, shaking his head. "Man, it's unbelievable."

Soda's eyebrows knitted together, as he watched his friend, curious about the incredulous expression he wore. "What is?"

Steve stared out at the yard, as he spoke. "Laura asked me once if I ever felt like I-" He swallowed, looking down at his lap.

"Felt like you what?"

Steve picked his cards back up, his eyes scanning them. "If I ever felt like I wasn't cared about or loved."

"Have you?"

"Not really. But I didn't know- I mean, I know you and my dad care about me. Even when me and my dad weren't good, I knew that. I know Evie cares about me too. Even though I'm not sure we'll stay together, I still know that."

Soda nodded, setting his own cards down next to him on the porch. "Yeah. Of course we care about you, man."

Steve lowered the cards to his lap, his hands still holding them. "I guess maybe I didn't realize how much, but I've always known you guys love me. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know."

Soda started to speak, a question on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped, sighing. "Please don't ever forget that."

"I won't. I won't forget." Steve looked up, meeting Soda's gaze. "But what I was going to say is I didn't know anybody else cared. Like Mr. Coleman or Pony."

"Everyone in your life cares about you, Stevie. Please remember that too."

* * *

Samuel lit the match, then held the flame close to the candle's wick, watching as it began to burn. The glow flickered in the dark kitchen, shining near the framed picture of Matthew Vivian had set on the table.

Vivian stood beside Samuel and took his hand in both of her own. She watched him, as he stared at their son's picture.

Samuel felt guilt burn within him, much like the candle's flame, as he couldn't look away from Matthew's face. "I know I don't need to do this to pray or to remember him."

"But it's okay to do it, Samuel. It's a little light in the dark. That's all."

Samuel sat down in the chair behind him, as Vivian took the one next to him. He moved his eyes from Matthew's picture to the baby blue candle he'd lit, a light in memory, a flame symbolic of the light of God he could see. "I'm so glad I know where he is."

"And we'll see him again one day."

Samuel looked at Vivian then. "I'm sorry I almost made it too soon."

"It's over, sweetheart, and I know you didn't mean to. You were having a really hard time. Tell me. How are you right now?"

"I don't know what I would've done if you had blamed me the way I blamed myself or if you'd been angry at me too. I've been feeling like that's all rushing back at me again. It's been a while since it has."

"I love you, Samuel. Matthew did too. He still does." Vivian put her hand over her husband's heart, tears in her eyes. "I know you know God loves you too, and he wants you to talk to him."

"I know he does. I have too, just not much yet. Not like I need to, before this gets to me too much. I don't want to get like I did back then."

Vivian held Samuel's hand in both of her own once more. "What do you need me to pray for?"

Samuel felt a tear slip out and slide down his cheek. "For me to hold onto the peace I've found, not to be mad at myself or at God again. For me to forgive myself again, if I need to. I think maybe I do."

"Okay." Vivian put her hands on each of Samuel's shoulders, then leaned her forehead against his, as she closed her eyes. "God, please touch my husband. Heal his heart and his mind. Bring him peace in this pain..."

* * *

Steve sat on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him. He was hardly aware when Nicholas settled next to him, as he tried to focus on the TV screen.

Nicholas touched Steve's arm, squeezing it. "I know I ask a lot, but are you okay?"

Steve nodded, his eyes not leaving the TV screen. "I think so."

"You still all right with the medicine?"

"I guess. It's not causing anything else, and I'm not so drowsy anymore with it. I don't know if it works or not, except I do sleep better."

"Remember, it could take a few weeks to know. But the sleeping part is pretty important."

Steve pulled his eyes away from the screen to look at Nicholas. "Can I ask you something about church?"

"Of course, Son. Were you thinking about something today when we were there?"

"Do you think what Pastor David was saying is true? I mean, the stuff about nothing being able to stop God from loving us."

"I sure do. It's what God does. He loves everyone. Nothing can change that."

Steve's eyes swelled with tears, and he covered his face. "I'm sorry. I don't want to keep crying."

Nicholas rubbed Steve's back. "It's okay. What's bothering you?"

Steve moved one hand away from his face, so he could see Nicholas. "Dad, does God still love me? I mean, I had just started to believe he could before..."

"Oh, Son. You never have to wonder that. He loves you, no matter what."

"So he still loves me, even though I-" Steve laid his head on Nicholas' shoulder, his voice getting quieter, both from emotion and the truth of the words he was speaking aloud. "Even though I tried to kill myself?"

Nicholas wrapped one arm around Steve, squeezing him and resting his chin on top of his head. "Yes. Son, God knows better than anyone what was going on in your mind. Even better than you do. He loves you, and I promise he wants to take care of you in that pain."

* * *

Nicholas stood in front of Steve, his hands holding his son's shoulders. "Look at me, Son." He saw Steve's eyes meet his own. "Try to relax. You're going to be fine today. Take a deep breath."

Steve did as he was told, taking in air, then forcing it out. "I'm just so nervous. I haven't been at school since- since I knew what I was going to do."

"I know. You're going to be okay." Nicholas pulled Steve into a hug. "I'll see you after school, and I'm still only a phone call away."

Steve returned the hug, clinging to his dad for a few last moments of comfort. "I guess I better go. Soda will be waiting for me. I don't want to be late either."

Within himself, Nicholas prayed. God, I don't want to let go. "I love you, Son." Please take care of him today. Keep him safe.

* * *

Steve put his backpack in the backseat of his car, then sat down in the driver's seat. He pulled the door closed, sliding the key into the ignition. "It's over. You lived. You're okay."

Steve turned the key, hearing the engine start, giving the Ford life. He looked to his right, not surprised to see Nicholas watching him from inside the house. Please pray this day isn't too hard for me, Dad, he thought.

Steve shifted the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway. You can do this, he thought. It's just driving. It's still your same old car. He pulled onto the street, then drove forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You survived, he told himself. So that means you have to keep on living.

* * *

Steve focused on the inside of his locker, pulling out only what he would need for his first two classes. He felt a presence next to him, then saw TwoBit out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, man."

TwoBit shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey. It hasn't been the same without you around. I mean, not just here at school, but anywhere. Not at the Curtis', not when I stop by the DX, and maybe not even anywhere in Tulsa because you weren't there. And you should be. You have to be all right cause I-"

"I know, TwoBit." Steve couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, as he slammed his locker shut. "I get it. Thanks, buddy."

TwoBit shook his head. "For what? What did I say?"

"I just meant thanks for caring. Even if you were rambling about it."

"What the hell has been going on, man?"

Steve looked at the hall filled with his peers, seeing the kids walking by them, talking to each other and laughing, life going on. "Not right now, okay? Not here."

"Sure, man. But you know what?"

"What?"

"If you ever do anything like that again, I swear I'll kick your ass."

Steve laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

TwoBit smiled. "Hey! Don't think I won't!" He looked down, as his face fell, his eyes on the tile floor. "You know what I mean."

"Don't worry. You won't have to kick my ass."

TwoBit reached over and squeezed Steve's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "Seriously, Steve. Don't."

"I know. I hear you. I won't do it again."

* * *

Nicholas walked toward the stock room, staring at the phone, the same one that had rung nearly a week ago to let him know Steve needed his help. His hand was on the door knob when that phone rang again, and he jumped, his heart beating faster.

Nicholas turned and walked quickly to the phone, picking up the receiver. "Hello. This is Nicholas. How may I help you?" He listened for a moment, relaxing as the voice on the line asked about a recent order. He closed his eyes, twisting the cord around his wrist. "Oh! Yes, yes. I'm still here. Thank you. I'll take care of it."

Nicholas hung up the receiver, untangling himself from the phone cord, then pressed his back against the wall. "You've got to calm down. He's okay. But if he needs you, he'll call." He ran his fingers through his hair, as he stood up straighter. He looked at the phone once more, still able to hear Steve's voice telling him his stomach hurt, that he did something he shouldn't have. He huffed out a breath. "I'll never forget that as long as I live."

Nicholas' eyes drifted up to the ceiling, as he walked back toward the stock room. "God, I know I keep saying it, but please take care of my son."

* * *

Soda took one more bite of the cheeseburger Darry had brought him for lunch, before wrapping the tin foil back around it. "I'm just not that hungry, Dar."

Darry took a bit of his own sandwich, as he turned slightly in the driver's seat of the truck. "All right, little buddy."

Soda put the wrapped burger back in the paper sack and set it next to him on the seat. "I'm not sick or anything though."

"Okay."

Soda put his hand against the window, looking at the DX through the glass. "Your truck needs to be washed."

Darry chuckled, as he finished his lunch. "Hey, you ain't helping putting your grubby fingers on my window!"

Soda smiled. "My fingers ain't grubby. Greasy maybe. But not grubby." His hand dropped back into his lap, the smile faltering. "I'm not sure what's bothering me. It's like I feel bad or something, and I have this stuff in my head. It bugs me that I can't stop thinking about it."

"What are you thinking about?"

Soda rolled the window down, taking in a breath of fresh air, as the worry of history repeating itself weaved with a flash of his childhood, creating a weight on his chest.

"You're still worried about Steve, aren't you?"

Soda nodded, a handful of memories combining to paint the picture of feelings he couldn't yet explain.

"I think he's going to be okay, Sodapop. You just keep being the friend you always have been, like I told you."

Soda blinked. But what if that still doesn't matter? he thought. What if it's not enough and he still-

Darry interrupted Soda's pondering, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "He went back to school today, right? And he's going to talk to Laura?"

"Yeah. He actually seems okay, I think. I wondered sometimes when he first got home, but I guess it's still been hitting him what happened. He said it was weird to be home after."

"It would have to be." Darry looked at his watch. "I need to head back, little buddy."

"Sure, Dar." Soda opened the door and slid out of the truck.

Darry picked up his keys. "We can talk later if you want to."

"Okay. See you later." Soda closed the door, hearing it slam shut, just as the sensation of powerlessness hit him and made him understand. He could suddenly make sense of the link between the moment of his childhood when he'd been oblivious to the salvation granted him and the present that had him all too aware of reality.

* * *

Steve wrote down the rest of what Mr. Johnson had told him to read in order to catch up and shoved borrowed notes into his history textbook. He went out of the classroom, making a quick stop at his locker, before heading toward the cafeteria, only distantly aware of the students around him.

Steve stopped outside the cafeteria doors and looked inside the crowded room, seeing kids waiting in line, eating, and talking. "If I weren't hungry, I'd never go in there."

He stepped inside and got in line, coming out shortly with a tray of food. He looked down at the soup and the ham sandwich, as he put his wallet back in his pocket and sat down at a table he believed was far enough away from most of his peers.

Just as Steve started to eat, he heard Evie's voice speaking to him. "Hi, sweetie. Is it going okay today? I only have a minute, but I wanted to come over and talk to you."

Steve looked at Evie and nodded. "Yeah. It actually is. I mean, my teachers and everyone just believe I was sick for a few days, so it hasn't been a big deal, as nervous as I was."

Evie smiled. "I'm glad." She kissed Steve's cheek. "I told Patricia I'd walk back to class with her, so I have to go."

"All right. I'll see you later."

Evie turned and faced the cafeteria doors, seeing Patricia waiting for her. She paused, then looked back at Steve. Touching his arm, she spoke from her heart. "I want to make sure you know you can always tell me if you're having a hard time with anything, no matter why. You can always talk to me."

Steve squeezed the hand on his arm. "Thanks, Evie. I know."

"I just want you to remember you never have to hide anything that hurts you. I know there are things I didn't handle so well, but I'm still here for you."

* * *

Steve looked over the math equations he'd managed to complete, the problems solved despite their connection to the flashback that had distressed him to the point of giving up on ever feeling better. He listened to Mrs. Patterson's voice and the tap of the chalk on the board, relieved he was nowhere but the present moment.

Steve wrote down the terms and definitions his teacher had put on the board, relaxing as he formed the letters and then full words. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, meeting the eyes of James, the same classmate he'd yelled at less than a week before. "Huh?"

James held out a couple of sheets of paper. "I thought you might need to borrow these from last week."

Steve nodded, taking the papers. "Thanks. Thanks a lot, man."

* * *

Mr. Grant closed his lesson plan book. "You look like you're feeling better, Steve."

Steve scribbled down some page numbers, then closed his science notebook. "I am, Sir. Thanks."

"You going to be able to catch up okay?"

"I think so. I only missed a few days so..." Steve shrugged, picking up the notebook and staring at the cover. He walked toward the classroom door. "I have to go. So I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right, Steve. Have a good rest of your day." Mr. Grant paused, then spoke again, just as his student stepped into the doorway. "Hang on a second."

Steve turned around, his eyes lifting up to see his teacher. "Huh?"

"I just wanted to ask you, even if I'm way off base. But it seems like you've had a lot going on recently."

Steve nodded, a chill going down his spine at the understated truth. "Yeah. I have. But I swear I'm okay, and I'm not going to miss anymore class and-"

Mr. Grant held up a hand. "Woah. Slow down. That's not what I was going to say. I just want to know if you have anyone to talk to about things. That's all."

"Oh. Actually, I do. More than one person even. I'm kind of about to go see one of them."

"That's good to hear. I won't keep you then. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

* * *

Nicholas was about to open the door that would lead to the waiting area inside Laura's brick office building when he noticed Steve was still several steps behind him. He turned, going back toward his son. "You're going to be fine in there, Steve. Just talk to her, like you always do. And I'll be right down the hall, if you need me."

Steve shook his head, his feet firmly planted on the pavement that connected the building to the parking lot. "No. I can't."

Nicholas stood in front of Steve, a hand on his shoulder. "What are you afraid of, Son?"

Steve wouldn't look at Nicholas. "Can we please just go home, Dad? Please?"

Nicholas held onto Steve's arm, as his son took a step back. "You need to talk to her, Son. I promise it's okay. You always say Laura's nice to you, that she's understanding."

Steve nodded, even as he took another step back. "She is. But I messed up, Dad. I kept telling her I wasn't planning to try to kill myself. But then, I didn't do what she told me, and I did it anyway." He pulled his arm out of Nicholas' grip, turning away from him.

"She's going to understand that, Steve. She knows about how you've been feeling and why. She knows how this can happen, and she always wants to help."

Steve crossed his arms over his middle. "But what if she can't? What if she can't help me now?"

* * *

"Hi, Steve."

Steve turned his head and saw Laura step outside. "What are you doing out here?"

Laura closed the door behind her. "Well, your dad said you wouldn't come inside, so I'm coming to you."

Steve still faced the parking lot. "Oh. I didn't know you would do that."

Laura walked closer to him. "I spoke to your doctor."

Steve dropped his head, his voice quiet. "So you know. You already know I didn't listen to you."

"That's not what I'm thinking at all, Steve. So why don't you come inside and sit down? We'll talk, like we do every week. That's still what I'm here for, and I'm not upset with you."

* * *

Nicholas sat down in a chair in the waiting room, grateful Laura had gotten through to Steve, that she'd been willing to try. But it's not like I should've expected anything different, he thought. She's good at what she does, and she cares.

He scanned the array of magazines that lay on the table in front of him, the titles fluttering across his brain, forgotten before he could even consider them. Nicholas turned his eyes to the bookshelf not far from where he sat, even knowing he didn't want to read the information he would be sure to find within the pages of the books displayed there.

He sighed, laying his head against the wall behind him, as he looked at the fish aquarium in the corner. Nicholas saw pink and green gravel on the bottom of it, the water bubbling around the castles made of sand and the bridge surrounded by decorative rocks. He watched a goldfish chase around a little blue fish, while a silver one seemed to be nibbling on food still left from a recent feeding. Nicholas' eyes drifted to a fourth fish, a bright yellow one swimming in circles over small sea shells and over the bridge, then under it. The fish swam quickly, a trail of bubbles behind it, as it went inside one of the pink castles. He watched, as the other fish still swam around the aquarium, eating and chasing one another, just being. He leaned closer, peering into the door of castle, where the yellow fish had gone. Just as he did, the fish emerged, another tiny yellow fish at its side.

Nicholas got to his feet and picked up the container next to the aquarium. He opened the lid and picked up just a bit of the fish food between his fingers. He sprinkled it above the two yellow fish, watching as both rushed to eat, still swimming together. The other fish joined them, but they always remained side by side.

* * *

Steve looked from the window to the floor, where he could see the light of the sun shining on the carpet. "I didn't know it would be like that. I thought I'd just go to sleep. I thought it wouldn't hurt. I didn't want to hurt anymore."

Laura spoke with a soft voice, her eyes watching her client. "You told me what happened, Steve. That you had the nightmare about Clara's death and the flashback that caused you particular distress. What exactly did you feel that made you decide to carry out the plan to try to take your life? What emotions made you unable to see anything else?"

"I just felt so ashamed and embarrassed, like I had to give up because I didn't want to live with any of that."

"You've told me about how you feel ashamed because of the abuse you experienced, and I can see how the flashbacks make that even more overwhelming to you. But what were you embarrassed about?"

"I know no one can see the memories in my head, but it always seems like they can. Like they must know what Clara did, what she made me do, how she died, and how thinking about that makes me..." Steve trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself, a few tears beginning to slip out.

"How it makes you what, Steve? You can say whatever you're thinking."

Steve continued, his voice small with vulnerability and uncertainty. "How thinking about it makes me feel trapped because how I felt then and what I thought, it's all always going to be there. Even though, I swear all I ever wanted- I didn't want her to die. I didn't want that to happen."

"You were just a little boy. Of course, that's not what you wanted. You are in no way responsible for Clara's death or any of the abuse you experienced."

Steve looked up at Laura then, his eyes wide and still teary. "I don't know if she ever cared what she did to me. I don't know if she ever cared that I didn't want- But I just wanted her to stop. I wanted her to care about me."

"It's okay that you wanted that. It even makes sense that you would." Laura reached over to her desk and grabbed a tissue, handing it to Steve. "Children want to be loved."

Steve pressed the tissue to his face, crying more. "But she didn't. She didn't love me or my dad."

Laura leaned forward, meeting Steve's gaze. "But that was her choice, and her fault, not your dad's and certainly not yours either."

Steve took a deep breath, shuddering. "I wish I didn't care. I mean, it's not like I don't have people who love me. I did then too. But I wasn't thinking about any of them when I took the pills. I wasn't thinking about how it would hurt them."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Just the shame, the guilt, the way I felt so much in pain, all I could imagine was dying and not having to try anymore. I asked God to take me, and I ripped up my paper. You know, the list of stuff to help me when I have the thoughts of hurting myself."

"Why did you rip it up?"

"Cause I was giving up. I didn't need it anymore. I didn't have the energy to fight it. I couldn't think. It was like a fog in my brain I couldn't see past."

"So how have you felt today and in the last couple of days since you've been home?"

Steve crumbled up the tissue, still holding onto it. "I still have them. I still have the suicidal thoughts. But I haven't said anything to my dad or anyone about it. I almost told Sodapop, but then, I didn't. They were worse when I first got home cause I kept remembering everything, like where I did it and how bad I felt after."

"What have you done to cope with this?"

"I've just been trying to get back into things. You know, normal stuff. I think it helps, but it's hard because I'm really afraid I could hurt myself again since I did it once."

"That's a very reasonable fear, Steve."

Steve pressed the crumpled tissue to his face, more tears falling, as he felt the pull to admit the truth of another thought. "But that fear, the guilt over what I did, and everything else I still feel, it all makes me wish sometimes that I hadn't survived."


	31. Chapter 31

Nicholas looked in on Steve, seeing his son curled up on the bed, school books next to his feet. "Did you get some work done, Son?"

Steve nodded, keeping his head on the pillow.

Nicholas stepped into the room, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "You've been so quiet since we left Laura's office."

Steve stayed silent, even as he turned over to face his dad.

"I'm glad you talked to her." Nicholas pushed Steve's hair back off his face. "I think that's really important."

Steve closed his eyes, feeling Nicholas stroking his hair.

"Talking to her was okay, right?"

Steve nodded, the counseling session earlier still fresh in his memory.

Nicholas sighed, then touched Steve's face. "I'm worried about you. Please talk to me."

Steve pursed his lips, then shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"For worrying you. That's not what I'm trying to do."

"I know that, Son. It's okay."

Steve sat up, his back against the head of the bed. "Laura asked a lot of questions to get me to talk about what I was feeling when I took the pills."

"Okay. It makes sense for her to do that. She wants to understand what was going on that day."

"So I did talk about things I hadn't before. But then, I said some stuff to her" Steve looked down at his hands, his fingers gripping the fitted sheet on the bed. "that made her ask even more questions about how I'm feeling now."

"So how are you feeling now?"

"Still guilty. But scared too. I don't want to scare you anymore though, I swear."

"I know that, Stevie. I know. Did she ask questions to try to make sure you're not planning to hurt yourself again? Is that what you mean?"

"Yeah. That's what I mean. I'm sure getting asked those kinds of questions a lot. She wants to see me again in a few days." Steve moved to the foot of the bed and picked up his two textbooks, then placed both of them in his backpack that was on the floor. "But I'm still not, Dad. Not planning to, I mean."

Nicholas watched Steve zip up the backpack, the sound buzzing in his ears, along with his next question. "Son, have you had the suicidal thoughts since you got home?"

Steve nodded, letting go of the backpack. He looked at his dad, then lie back down on the bed, facing away from Nicholas.

Nicholas noticed again the paper still on Steve's nightstand. He turned it over, the words in Laura's handwriting reminding him of some of the times he knew his son had been able to help his mind through the thoughts of harming himself. "What about right now?"

Steve tensed, keeping his back to Nicholas. He turned his face into the pillow. "I'm not going to do anything. I'm not."

Nicholas put a hand on Steve's back. "I didn't say you were."

Steve mumbled, his face still buried in the pillow. "I promise. I won't. Please don't think that."

"It's okay. I just want to help you through it if that's how you're feeling. You told me before. You still can."

"But I don't want to scare you."

"Son, it's much scarier to me if I don't know what's going on. You do a lot better if you talk or find something to do, right?"

Steve nodded. "I know I shouldn't just lie here like this, but my head feels so foggy."

"Why don't you come eat dinner with me? Then, we can play cards or go for a walk."

"Okay."

"Or we could go for a drive or go to the park and shoot some hoops or-"

Steve smiled. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Said what?"

Steve still smiled, as he looked at his dad. "Shoot some hoops? You never say that."

Nicholas smiled back. "Hey! I can be cool or tuff or whatever it's called now."

"You can. You're just usually not."

* * *

Soda opened a cabinet in the Randles' kitchen. "You guys got any stuff for hot chocolate?"

Steve put a plate in the sink. "It's like sixty degrees out, man."

Soda opened another cabinet, then looked at his friend, sighing and shaking his head. "Don't you know me better than that, Stevie?"

"Oh, I know you better than you know yourself. Don't worry."

Soda found a box of cocoa mix. "Don't worry, huh? Maybe I should since that's actually kind of scary." He held up the box, reading the directions. "I wonder what would happen if I didn't add water."

Steve chuckled. "You'd have chocolate powder. That's what would happen."

Soda grinned, opening the box. "No, I mean what if I added Pepsi or coffee?"

Steve frowned. "That's disgusting, man."

Soda took down two mugs, adding powder and hot water to each of them. "That's probably true."

"Why are you making two?"

"For both of us."

"I need hot chocolate when it's sixty degrees?"

Soda stirred the powder and water in each mug, mixing them together. "Yep. I'm telling you. It's soothing."

"I need to be soothed?"

Soda nodded, handing a mug to Steve. "Yep."

Steve looked down at the hot chocolate. "How do you know that?"

Soda took a sip from his own mug. "I just do. That's all."

* * *

Steve lit a cigarette from his place on the back porch steps. He put it to his lips, inhaling, as he looked at the nearly empty mug of hot chocolate that was next to him. "He's right. It is soothing."

Soda sat down beside Steve. "Told you so." He looked toward the back door. "Your dad is in there going on about wanting to play cards. I didn't know he liked it that much."

"It's cause he wants me to focus on something. But I think I'm okay now, not like earlier anyway."

"What happened earlier?"

Steve let out a breath of smoke. "I saw Laura today, and we talked about a lot of stuff."

"Did it help?"

"I don't know yet. I guess it should, and I probably needed to say all of it. But it still hurts like hell."

Soda looked down, closing his eyes for a moment, as he spoke. "I wish I could fix it for you. I would, if I knew a way."

"I know you would, buddy." Steve put his cigarette out, stomping his foot on it. "Damn it. I don't get how I could still feel like that. How can I still think-"

Soda put a hand on Steve's arm. "You've still been having the suicidal thoughts, haven't you?"

Steve leaned his head against Soda's shoulder. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"I guess I sort of hoped that after I got so sick and scared when I overdosed, it would be different. Like I couldn't even still think like that."

Soda wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders. "What happened that day, Stevie? I've wanted to ask since Darry told me."

"I had this crazy nightmare about Clara dying. Then later, during class, I had a flashback. That's been happening so much. But it was worse this time. It's all just happened too much, and everything she did makes me feel like she's part of me."

"I hope you know she's not."

Steve lifted his head from Soda's shoulder. "I don't know. I want to believe that, but I still get where I feel so ashamed and just hurt so damn bad. That's what happened, and I couldn't see a way out of it."

Soda kept his arm around Steve, his voice trembling. "I knew something was wrong already, but when Darry told me what happened, that you were in the hospital, I didn't believe him. I tried to tell him it couldn't be. Like he had to be wrong. Then, I couldn't stop crying."

Steve closed his eyes against tears. "I'm sorry, Soda. I've still been feeling so guilty."

Soda squeezed Steve's shoulder, a tear going down his cheek. "I didn't tell you that to make you feel worse. I couldn't do that to you. I guess what I'm trying to say is I know how hard you've been trying, and I know you don't really want to die. I cried so much because I kept thinking you had to be in the worst pain to actually do that. Especially when you came so close to taking those pills before, and it scared you like it did."

Steve nodded, before looking down and wiping his eyes. "I was really trying. I mean, I told you how I'd been feeling when I hadn't told anyone yet. Then, I told my dad. I did what Laura said to do to help. I even started praying about it. But it was still like I hurt so much and so bad, I couldn't imagine feeling better."

"Buddy, it hurt me more than anything to know you could've died, but to know you were in so much pain you could think you wanted to enough to try..." Soda blinked away more tears, still not letting go of his friend. "It was hard to wrap my head around that when I know you'd been doing everything you should."

"It's been hard for me to wrap my head around all of it. But I actually felt like I couldn't keep going with all this pain and the memories. Like it must be impossible to live with that."

* * *

Soda pressed the iron onto the material of Darry's shirt, the heat smoothing out what remained of the wrinkles. He put the iron down, then folded the shirt up, starting with the still warm sleeves, before setting it down next to the other two shirts on his brother's bed.

Soda looked up when Darry came into the room, still towel drying his hair after a shower. "Hey, Dar. I finished them for you."

Darry tossed the towel into the laundry hamper. "Thanks, little buddy. I got a couple of work meetings coming up. My boss wants us to look nice, so these people might hire us to work on some new buildings."

"Sure." Soda unplugged the iron. "I needed something to do anyway. Pony called while you were in the shower. I told him I'd drive over and get him in a few minutes."

Darry nodded, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "Okay. It's after dark anyway, and he doesn't need to be walking home."

Soda folded up the ironing board, then leaned it against the wall. "Besides, I still need something to do."

Darry opened his closet and took out three hangers, then picked up one of the freshly ironed shirts. "Are you still feeling bad, like you were talking about earlier?"

Soda shook his head. "No. I'm fine. It's not bothering me anymore. It's-" He swallowed, looking away from Darry. "It ain't a big deal. Just stuff I don't need to think about."

Darry put one of the shirts on a hanger, buttoning it up. "It's okay if you're still worried and if you're scared. You got every right to be. How was Steve when you saw him?"

"He's still struggling with everything, but he was talking to me about it, so I guess that's good. I am worried about him. Scared too after... I can't help it. But it hasn't been just that."

Darry laid the shirt he'd just buttoned up on the bed, looking straight at Soda. "Remember what I told you about not keeping shit inside. Don't do that. Tell me what's going on, little buddy. I know how scared you were, and I know it must be worse after what happened. So if there's more, please tell me about it. I don't like you handling this kind of stuff alone."

Soda locked eyes with Darry. "I can't. I just need to stop thinking about it. I need to stop because I can't change anything by remembering how-" He stopped, breathing hard. "I need to go get Pony."

"Sodapop, please-"

Soda backed into the doorway, rubbing his face. "I can't talk about it, Dar. You're right, but I still can't. I'm just going to get Pony, and maybe later I'll be able to tell you."

* * *

Soda pulled up next to the curb, stopping the truck in front of his house. "Hey, Pone, tell Darry I went out, and I'll be back before curfew. Okay?"

Pony picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "Out? Out where?"

Soda shrugged. "You know, just for a drive. Tell him I'm fine too. I don't want him to worry anymore. He's got enough gray hairs over me lately."

Pony pushed open the passenger door, hesitant to get out of the truck. "_Are_ you fine?"

Soda cracked a grin and looked at his brother. "Sure, Pony. I got some stuff on my mind, but you know me. I'll be okay."

Pony eyed Soda, sliding out of the seat. "Stuff, huh? Like what?"

"Stuff that makes me want to take a drive. You know a lot's been going on lately."

"Yeah, and I know it's been real hard for you cause Steve's your best friend. He's as much your brother, as me and Darry are."

Soda gripped the steering wheel tighter, managing a smile. "Just tell Darry I'll be back, Pone. I'll be all right."

* * *

Steve looked at the cards Nicholas had laid down on the coffee table, then nodded at a King and Queen. "Dad, that's a diamond, but that's a heart."

Nicholas blinked, then tossed his remaining cards down. "Sorry. I'm not very focused right now."

"It's not a big deal. You look tired. Go to bed."

"I'm sorry." Nicholas rubbed his forehead, pressing his hand into it. "So sorry."

Steve put his own cards down and scooted closer to Nicholas on the couch. "Why do you keep saying that?"

Nicholas didn't speak, as he looked at Steve, then covered his eyes that had filled with tears.

Steve touched his dad's arm, holding onto it. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Son, be honest with me-"

Steve let go of Nicholas' arm. "Honest? I have been honest with you. Why would you-"

"Let me finish, Steve. That's not what I meant." Nicholas dropped his hand to his lap, meeting his son's eyes. "Have I failed you?"

"No, Dad. Don't think that."

"But that's how I keep feeling since you were in the hospital, and it was hitting me what had just happened, that you'd hurt yourself, and you could've died if you hadn't called me soon enough."

"But I did call you, and that was because I knew I could. I knew you'd be there for me. You didn't fail me, Dad. I didn't hurt myself because of you. It's not your fault I could feel that bad."

"I just want you to know nothing scares me more than to think I could lose you, Son, and I'll do anything I can to help you. If there's anything else I didn't do-"

Steve wrapped his arms around Nicholas, squeezing him. "I love you, Dad. You've done everything for me. No matter what happens or how much it hurts, I know you're still right by my side."

* * *

Soda took another gulp of his drink, giggling as he saw the balls on the pool table scatter, the numbers and colors blurring together.

He heard Tim Shepard's voice, though he didn't look in the other man's direction. "He don't need to be in here. You lost your fuckin' mind, cuz?"

Soda heard another voice, Shepard's cousin, the owner of the bar, he'd stumbled into, while in search of a touch of escape. "What, man? The fuzz don't care who we serve 'round here. Ouch! Hey!"

Soda heard Tim's voice once more. "I'll punch your damn lights out before I gotta deal with Curtis finding out I stood here and watched his kid brother get shit-faced. It ain't the fuzz I care about."

Soda had put the drink to his lips again, still watching the game of pool, one greaser hustling another. He was swallowing when a hand snatched the bottle from him. "Hey!"

Tim Shepard stood in front of Soda. "You've had enough, Middle Curtis. My cuz here don't know any better, but I ain't having your big brother skin me alive."

Soda giggled, as he reached for his drink, his words slurring. "You're crazy, Tim. I'm fine."

Tim held the bottle away from Soda and put it down on the bar. "No fuckin' way you're fine. You don't belong here."

Soda stumbled forward, just as Tim's cousin slid the bottle away, then out of his sight, shrugging as he spoke. "Sorry, kid. Tim don't seem to be joking, and I ain't itchin' for anybody's brother to kill me tonight."

Soda narrowed his eyes, then turned to Tim. "I can handle myself, you know."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Oh, I know it, Sodapop. I've seen you fight. But you can't hold your liquor."

Soda huffed out a breath, then turned his back on Tim, heading out the door. He went toward Darry's truck, the lights from the street making him squint. He started to laugh. "Man, it's bright out here! I thought it was supposed to be night." Soda opened the driver's side door and got in, pulling the key from his pocket and sliding it into the ignition. He was about to turn it when he stopped and stared up at the sky, the sight of the full Moon making him pause. "What am I thinking?"

Soda heard a knock on the window, then turned his head, seeing Tim standing there. He pulled the key from the ignition and opened the door.

Tim snatched the keys from Soda. "Kid, you gotta be stupid to even-"

Soda held up his hands, as he slid out of the driver's seat. "I wasn't, Tim. I swear. I almost did cause I stopped thinking, but I realized what I was doing."

Tim pushed Soda to the side. "Just go get in the truck, kid. I'm driving you home. Darry would kill me if I didn't."

* * *

Darry looked into Pony's room. "Soda didn't tell you where he was going at all? It's getting late."

Pony shook his head. "No, he didn't. I'm worried about him, Dar. He just didn't seem right."

"I know it, Pone." Darry heard the front door open, then Soda's voice, followed by Tim Shepard's. He went back down the hall, toward the other side of the house, noticing Pony was following him.

Soda stood in front of Tim. "I swear I'm fine, Dar. I had a little too much to drink. That's all."

Darry looked at his brother, eyeing him up and down. "A _little _too much? You don't look so good, Sodapop. Where the hell have you been?"

Tim spoke up next, a firm hand pushing Soda out of his line of vision. "He is fine, Darry. I drove him home. He was at my cousin's bar downtown, and he don't hold his liquor so well."

Darry took a step toward Soda. "That's what going out meant? You ain't even old enough to be sitting in a bar. They should've thrown you out of there."

Tim nodded at Pony, then spoke again to Darry. "Sorry, man. My cuz don't exactly play by the rules. Frankly, if it was anybody else, I wouldn't give a damn. But you guys and your gang, you're different."

Darry rubbed his head, still eyeing Soda. "I'll drive you home, Tim. Thank you for having his back." He pointed his finger into his brother's chest. "You go to your room, and don't so much as move until I get back. Do you understand?"

Soda nodded. "Thanks, Tim. For bringing me home." He pushed past Darry and Pony, disappearing down the hall."

* * *

Soda sat on the floor in his bedroom, his back pressed against the wall next to the window. It was dark, the only light a lamp beside his bed. He felt his head pounding. "What the hell was I thinking? I'm going to be so sick tomorrow." When the door opened, he pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging them, as he steeled himself for whatever was to come.

Darry closed the door, resisting the urge to slam it. "Sodapop Patrick, you ain't leaving this room or sleeping or anything until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you!"

Soda squeezed his eyes closed, a sick feeling in his stomach, as he hid his face in his lap. "I'm sorry, Darry. I know I shouldn't have been there. I know I screwed up."

Darry crouched down next to Soda and put a hand under his chin, lifting it up. "Tim told me you were about to drive."

Soda tried to avoid Darry's eyes. "But I didn't. Even before he came out there, I stopped. I swear. I didn't even start the truck."

Darry grabbed the front of Soda's shirt and pushed him back. He held him there, while he spoke. "But you got in it. The key was in the ignition. This is what we talked about. You're hurting, and your judgment is off. In the first place, you needed to talk to me, not go get drunk. That made your judgment even worse. After that, your first thought should've been to call me or TwoBit or Steve. Anybody. Not to drive."

Soda's eyes drifted down, his heart pounding at the truth of Darry's words. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I won't do it again."

Darry gritted his teeth, still holding the front of Soda's shirt in his fist. "It scares me to death, Sodapop. I can't trust you now either." He lifted his brother's chin with his other hand, then leaned closer, making their faces almost one. "You look at me and tell me now what you've been thinking. I'm mad at you right now, but I love you so much, little buddy. You're not going to do this anymore."

Soda turned his head and tried to pull away, tears forming in his already red eyes. "No. Please, Darry. Just let me go to bed."

Darry didn't loosen his grip and reached for Soda's chin again. "Whatever is bothering you is not going to get better or easier if you shove it down. If we have to sit here all night, I'm up for it. I'm not going to let you even come close to putting yourself in danger ever again."

Soda brought his own hand up to his chest to hold onto Darry's, his grip so tight, it almost hurt. He closed his eyes, feeling his brother let go of his chin and sit at his side.

"Talk to me, Pepsi Cola. I know this is about Steve. I know you were too close to what happened when you were kids, and I know it's tough for you to see him hurting. What else is it?"

Tears fell from Soda's eyes, as he still gripped Darry's hand, his voice coming out choked. "I can't save him, Darry. He still tried to kill himself. He could try again, but I can't stop him. He saved me from her, but I can't save him from hurting so much he wants to die!"

Darry pulled his hand out of Soda's grip, then wrapped both arms around him. "You're the best friend he could have, little buddy. I know it hurts you can't take the pain away, but you're always there for him. Steve needs that. He needs the love and the support."

Soda wept, his face pressed into Darry's chest. "But he pulled me away from her when I didn't know what was going on! Now, I do, and I still can't fix it. He told me I helped because I stopped him from taking the pills that first time. But it still happened anyway!"

Darry squeezed Soda tighter, feeling the tears soak into his shirt.

"Even before he overdosed, I kept going back to that day I saw him with the bottle of pills and wondering what if I'd come later or not at all. But then, it happened. He did it, and I'm scared it'll happen again. So scared he'll die."

Darry rubbed circles on Soda's back. "I know."

Soda took a deep breath, the tears drying. "I didn't know at first why I kept remembering that time Clara was staring at me. But it's because I couldn't save him from that. I couldn't stop her from hurting him, and I can't stop him from feeling like hurting himself cause of what she did."

"But you can be there. You can listen. I know that doesn't always feel like much, but it is. It means a lot to Steve."

Soda stayed in his brother's arms, as a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes. "If it had happened to me too, he wouldn't have been alone. I would've known and told Mom and Dad, so she couldn't keep-"

Darry gently pushed Soda away from him and looked into his eyes. "No, Sodapop. It wouldn't have been better for you to be abused too. You know how much Steve felt like it was all his fault, how scared he was to say anything. She made sure he wouldn't. She would've manipulated you the same way, and both of you would've been hurt with no one knowing what was happening."

"How could she be like that? How could anyone?"

Darry shook his head. "That's an answer I don't have, little buddy." He put his hand on Soda's cheek, thumbing away tears. "I know you want to fix all of it, but I want you to know it's okay that you can't."

"Steve told me he's always known we love him and that he wouldn't be here if he didn't know. I didn't say it, but I almost asked him if he knew that, how could he try to kill himself?"

Darry's hand dropped to Soda's shoulder. "I think that tells you how bad the pain is, doesn't it? That tells you how much he must've wanted to make it stop."

Soda nodded, leaning his head back against the wall. "He said he hurt so much, he couldn't see a way out of it, that he couldn't imagine being able to feel better. What scares me the most is he did everything he's supposed to. You know, talking about it and all and listening to Laura. I know Nicholas has done his best for him too. If that's not enough, what will be?"

* * *

Steve opened his eyes, realizing he had just minutes until his alarm would go off. He turned over on his side and looked out the window, seeing drops of rain falling from the sky. Stretching his legs, he got up out of bed, socked feet sliding across the carpet, as he went to stand in front of the window.

Steve watched the rain begin to pour, a roaring sound in his ears, as the water dropped out of the clouds and crashed to the Earth. He heard a faint clap of thunder and thought of the night he'd thrown a lamp at this same window, shattering the glass and letting rain blow into his bedroom. He was certain if Soda hadn't pulled him back, his fist would've gone through what remained of the window, making the anger and pain that was so intense on the inside visible on the outside.

Remembering that moment, Steve wondered if he'd had not just a desire to express his anger physically, but also an inclination to harm himself not unrelated to the suicidal thoughts he began to experience soon after. He could still picture how water had come into his bedroom, along with the wind, while he cried and punched the wall, then felt Soda's arms wrap around him, before he fell to the floor.

Steve's eyes continued to watch the falling rain, as he heard his alarm and switched it off, then picked up the jeans and shirt he'd left out on top of the dresser. He pulled the shirt he still wore over his head and slipped on the clean one, as he saw the rain water collecting in puddles on the grass, wind blowing so hard against the window, it seemed the glass should break again. He pulled on a pair of jeans, as he heard a louder clap of thunder, the storm making itself known.

Steve combed his hair, making it swirl around, still picturing the rain coming into his bedroom, the puddles forming outside, water going everywhere. He set the comb down, lightning flashing, just as the image of water collided with his fragile state of mind, making him wonder what it would feel like to drown.

* * *

Soda yelled through the closed bathroom door. "Please don't come in here, Darry! I'm okay. Really."

Darry heard the sound of his brother's vomiting, briefly thinking some of the sickness was from the alcohol he wasn't used to, the rest from the stress of pent-up emotions. "All right, Sodapop. I'll stay out here."

Pony walked up behind Darry, eyeing the bathroom door. "Is he going to be okay? I hate to see him sick, especially like that."

Darry ruffled Pony's hair. "Yeah. He'll be okay, Pone."

Pony sighed. "He tell you why he was drinking? He said he had stuff on his mind, but that he was fine. I knew I didn't believe him."

Darry tossed an arm over Pony's shoulders. "Yes, he did. I didn't give him a choice. I got his back, little brother, and it's all out in the open. He needed that."

Pony yelled to Soda through the still closed bathroom door. "I'll see you later, Soda. I hope you feel better."

Soda opened the door then, turning on the sink and splashing water on his face. "Thanks, Pony. I'm sorry. I know I don't usually do stuff like that."

Pony took a step closer. "It's okay. I don't like you drinking much. It ain't right, but I'm not mad at you. I know you've been upset."

Soda turned off the sink. "Good. I'd hate for you to be mad at me, even if I would understand."

Pony gave Soda a half-smile. "It'd be awful hard to stay mad at you anyway." He backed up and turned to Darry. "I gotta get to school, before the rain starts up again."

Darry patted Pony's shoulder. "Okay, Pone." After his youngest brother was out of sight, he looked at Soda, who had a hand on his forehead, leaning on the bathroom counter. "Take some aspirin."

Soda didn't look up. "I did. Darry, are you still mad at me?"

Darry stepped forward and leaned in the doorway. "I should be. I even want to be. But I can't. Not after what you told me. It's hard to be mad at you at all, but even harder after seeing you cry, especially over something like that."

Soda lifted his head up and walked out of the bathroom, then stood in front of Darry. "I'm still sorry."

Darry heard the front door open and touched Soda's shoulder, leading him out of the hall and into the living room. "We'll talk about all of it later, little buddy."

Soda nodded, then spoke to Steve, who had just come inside the house. "Hey, man. I'll just be a minute. I've been kind of sick."

Steve dropped into a kitchen chair. "Okay. Sure you don't need to call in? You don't look like you feel great."

Soda looked down at his feet, then at Darry. "Yeah. I'm sure. I'm fine." He backed up into the hallway. "I'll be right back."

Steve shook his head, watching Soda walk away. "Doesn't he know I know him better than that?"

Darry sat down across from Steve. "I have to go in a couple of minutes, but I want you to know something first since I didn't really get a chance to talk to you yet."

Steve avoided Darry's gaze. "I guess I should tell you I'm sorry too about what I did cause I know I scared Soda, but I swear I'd never-"

Darry put a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing. "Stop. I know that, Steve. What I was going to say isn't just because of Soda. Remember how I told you once we're all family here?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. I remember."

"I want you to know I meant that, and if there's anything you need or if you just need another person to talk to, I'm here."

* * *

Steve turned on his windshield wipers, watching as the sprinkling of remaining rain disappeared from his view. He glanced over at Soda, before turning his eyes back to the road. "You look like hell, man."

Soda shrugged, then forced a grin onto his face. "I'll be fine. My stomach is just a little sick is all."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were hungover."

Soda looked away from Steve and down at his lap. "I uh- Never mind."

Steve waited a moment, cutting his eyes over at his friend when he stayed silent. "Soda?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you?"

"Kind of."

"I've never known you to have more than a few beers or something."

Soda rubbed his face, still not looking at Steve. "Well, I had a little more than that."

"Oh. Where?"

"That bar Shepard's cousin owns."

"But you never-"

Soda huffed out a breath. "It ain't a big deal, Stevie. I got drunk It's not like I- I mean, Tim drove me home. I didn't do anything bad."

"I didn't say you did, buddy. I just wouldn't think you would try to keep that from me."

"I sure did a lousy job at that, didn't I? Look, I know I ain't much of a drinker, but I just got a little carried away. That's all."

"It surprises me you'd go to that place at all. It just ain't like you, man. What'd Darry say?"

"Enough. He wasn't too happy with me."

Steve turned into the parking lot of the DX and stopped his car. "I bet. What made you go there anyway?"

Soda bit his lower lip, as he reached for the door handle. "I don't know. I just went for a drive, and that was where I ended up."

Steve reached for Soda's arm before his friend could get out of the car. "This isn't anything to do with what we were talking about at my house last night, is it?"

Soda met Steve's eyes, then turned away, shaking his head. "No. It's nothing to do with anything." He looked at his friend again, a grin on his face. "You can still always talk to me, and I want you to. Don't ever worry about that."

* * *

Samuel looked at Grace over the glass of iced tea in front of him. "Thanks for coming."

Grace opened a straw and put it in her own glass of iced tea, taking a sip. "Oh, it's no problem. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

Samuel looked around the restaurant, his place of work, right now also the place where he'd asked Grace to come on his lunch hour. "What you told me about how you recognized Nicholas from years ago, his son seems to remember you."

"Oh? I only saw either of them for a minute. Long enough to tell Nicholas about Clara."

"Well, at church, Steve said you looked familiar to him, and he was looking at you like he couldn't figure out what to make of it."

"Did Nicholas think I looked familiar too?"

"He said maybe, but he didn't seem as sure. What I'm trying to say is it makes me uncomfortable to know and not tell them. Nicholas has gotten to be a really good friend, so it doesn't feel right to me. I didn't say anything to you before, but I know why he reacted the way he did to hearing Clara was dead. I know too why it could bother Steve especially to see you now because, to him, you're connected to someone from that part of the past and to some very bad memories."

Grace leaned closer to Samuel, both elbows on the table between them. "What did Clara do to these people, Samuel? I know there's something she was hiding. The way she was talking, nothing made sense. I knew it must be bad or she wouldn't have-" She brought her hands up to her face. "I hate thinking about it. I hate thinking about when I found her."

Samuel moved the straw around in his glass, making the tea and ice swirl. "I know. It's not mine to tell, Grace, but you're right. It was bad. You're not alone in being left with memories no one could ever want. It sounds to me like that's what Clara did to everyone in her life."


	32. Chapter 32

Evie walked into the courtyard, Patricia beside her. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to go talk to Steve before he leaves."

Patricia nodded. "Has he been feeling better? I know Dennis said he was sick last week too. Some kind of bug that kept hanging on."

Evie shifted the books she carried from one arm to the other, looking toward where she could see Steve on a bench. "Um, yeah, he's okay. Must've been the same bug."

"Well, I'm glad he's feeling better. Glad we didn't get it too." Patricia waved to Evie, as she headed in the other direction. "Bye! Call me if you want to hang out later. I don't have much to do."

"Sure. I will." Evie approached Steve and dropped down on the bench beside him. "Hey, sweetie."

Steve looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as he folded up the sheet of paper he'd been writing on, hiding the words from view. "Hey."

"What are you writing?"

Steve slid the paper into the front pocket of his backpack. "Just some stuff I need to remember."

"Oh. Okay. You're going back to work today, right?"

"Yeah. My boss has been real good about everything, so I'm not even too worried."

"That's good." Evie watched Steve, noticing he was hardly looking at her. She squeezed his hand. "What are you thinking about?"

Steve reached for his backpack with his free hand, zipping up the pocket where he'd put the paper. "Nothing. Just trying to deal, you know."

"Remember I told you that you can always talk to me."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I know we're not like we used to be, and that's honestly been bothering me."

"It bothers me too. But I don't think I know what to do about it."

Evie sighed, scooting closer to Steve, squeezing his hand once more. "I'm not sure either. But I think I want to talk about it."

Steve looked at Evie, shaking his head. "I can't right now though."

"I know, sweetie. I meant later."

Steve pulled his hand away and stood to his feet, picking up the backpack. "No. I really mean I can't."

Evie stood up too, looking at Steve's face, as questions circled through her mind. "Why?"

"Cause I'm trying to figure out too many things. I can't do more. Not when I'm wondering how- I mean, I want to, but I can't yet. I'm sorry."

Evie touched Steve's arm. "It's okay."

Steve took a deep breath. "I don't mean to freak out. I guess I'm just feeling overwhelmed."

* * *

Soda was looking at the clock when the bell above the door dinged, and he saw Steve rush inside. "Slow down, man."

"I thought I was going to be late." Steve looked up at Soda, as he punched in. "Hey, you made it through the day, huh?"

Soda grinned. "Of course, I did. Man, this morning, Coleman took a look at me, and for a second, I thought he'd make me go home." He shrugged. "But he didn't. I felt a lot better after being up a little while anyway."

Steve glanced around the DX. "Anything I should know before you go?"

"Hmm...I don't think so. It's just been the usual around here. There's a Ford in the garage that makes this rattling noise when you start it."

Steve nodded. "Okay. Maybe I'll get a chance to look at it."

"Yeah, it hasn't been here long, and I thought you'd want to." Soda started going toward the back of the station. "Coleman wanted me to straighten out some stuff in the stock room, so I'm going to do that before I have to go."

"All right." Steve stood behind the cash register, glancing down at the keys with their numbers and letters and the black and white display for dollars and cents. He heard the bell ding and looked up, surprised at who he saw. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

Samuel smiled. "I hope that's not how you usually greet your customers."

Steve shrugged, a grin on his face. "Nah, just when they're preacher guys like you."

Samuel went toward the center of the store, then stopped beside a shelf of snacks, his eyes searching. "Your dad told me you work here. I was just driving by and thought I'd come in and say hi."

Steve saw Darry's truck out of the corner of his eye and waved to him through the window, before he yelled for Soda. "Hey, man! Darry's here."

Soda came out of the stock room, then made his way over to the time clock.

Steve nodded toward Samuel, as he spoke. "Hey, Soda, this is Samuel. You know, the preacher my dad is friends with at the church."

Soda finished punching out, then looked at Samuel. "Oh. Hi. Steve told me he liked your church, and it wasn't real boring."

Samuel chuckled. "Just a little boring then?"

Steve laughed too. "Shut up, man. And let me finish here." He looked at Samuel, pointing to his best friend. "This is my best buddy, Sodapop."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Sodapop, huh?"

Soda pulled his DX cap off his head and held it up. "The one and only."

Steve watched Soda, shaking his head. "As you can see already, there ain't anything boring about him."

Soda put his cap back on, as he walked to the door. "Good to meet you, Samuel." He nodded toward Steve, as he started to step outside. "Just don't let Stevie here hang onto any hymn books at your church."

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep from smiling. "If I had one right now, I'd throw it at you."

Soda held the door open, looking at Samuel. "See what I mean?" He turned his eyes back to Steve. "I'll see you later, buddy."

Steve nodded at Soda, watching him go.

Samuel picked up a candy bar and a bottle of Pepsi, then approached the counter. "Well, that was entertaining."

Steve rung up the purchases. "Yeah, if you want to see more, you should come by more often." He met Samuel's eyes. "As long as we didn't scare you away, that is."

Samuel reached into his pocket, speaking as he pressed the money he owed into Steve's hand. "Not a chance, Steve. Not a chance."

* * *

Nicholas pressed the phone receiver to his ear. "Okay. I'll see you at the church tomorrow then." Just as he was hanging up, he saw Steve step into the house. "Hey, Son. How was work?"

Steve was silent, as he pulled his shoes off and opened the refrigerator, staring at the inside of it. "Son?"

"Huh?" Steve looked at Nicholas. "Sorry. Just thinking too much."

"I just asked how work was."

"Pretty good, actually." Steve closed the refrigerator door. "I don't know what I feel like eating."

Nicholas nodded toward a pot on the stove, as he sat down. "I made vegetable soup."

As Steve started to make himself a bowl of soup, he remembered what he wanted to tell his dad. "Samuel came by the DX to say hi."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He even met Soda too." Steve grabbed a spoon, stirring the soup, as he sat down across from Nicholas. "And we were all joking around."

"I bet that was fun."

"You know what? It really was." Steve took a bite of the soup, thinking back on the afternoon. "I do like him, Dad. He is a decent guy."

Nicholas grinned at his son. "He's turned out to be a good friend too."

"Yeah, I can see how he would be. Are you coming with me tomorrow to see Dr. Reynolds?"

"Yes, I am. I was already planning to meet you over there."

"I know I shouldn't be cause it wasn't even so bad the first time, but I'm still kind of nervous."

"Well, it's not exactly something you're used to doing, Son."

"Yeah. I guess it's not. And seeing him is different than seeing Laura. I mean, we talk about some of the same stuff, but it seems like it's for a different reason." Steve stirred around what remained of the soup. "Dad, I was talking to Evie today, and we both said it bothers us that we're not like we used to be."

"Sure. Go on."

"She said she wants to talk about it, but I told her I can't."

"You've had a lot going on, Steve."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I told her, but I don't know. It was more like the thought of talking about that scared me, and I'm not sure why."

* * *

Soda sat on the porch swing and turned to look at Darry when he settled beside him. "I know you want to talk again, Dar. I'm still sorry."

Darry stretched his arm out, resting it on the back of the swing. "You're forgiven, you know."

Soda looked away from his brother, focusing instead on fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. "Well, I shouldn't be. All I managed to do was make myself sick and almost do something really stupid."

"What are you going to do next time something is bothering you that much?"

"I'll tell you about it. I don't even want to drink at all now."

"Look at me, little buddy." Darry waited until he saw Soda staring back at him. "You're forgiven because I know you get it now. You scared yourself. I'm not angry at you anymore, but I do expect better from you. You're going to have to earn my trust back."

Soda broke the eye contact. "I know."

"You may be eighteen, but as long as you're living here with me and with Pony, I still need you to make good decisions."

"I get it. It's just been hard to deal, Darry. What I was talking about last night, I didn't expect to feel like that. Steve knows I was at that bar. I told him I just got carried away. But I think he knows that ain't quite true."

"You might not want to hear this, Soda, but it could help if you told him what you've been thinking about."

"I don't know about that. He still feels bad, and I don't want to make it worse."

Darry put a hand on Soda's shoulder. "I'm just saying think about it, little buddy. There's one more thing I want you to know too."

"What's that, Dar?"

"I'm not glad that you went to a bar when you should've been at home or that you were drinking like you were, but I am grateful you didn't drive. I know you know what could've happened, and that's not something I even want to think about."

"I really did stop, Darry. Even before Tim came outside. I know I shouldn't have even gotten in at all, but I wasn't thinking until that second. It was like I suddenly realized what I was doing, and just in time."

Darry squeezed Soda's shoulder. "Thank God you did."

* * *

Steve held a can of peaches under the can opener. He pressed down on the lever, making the sharp edges turn, beginning to slice open the metal. The can spun in a circle, and he watched the lid break, the label with its brand and picture moving in front of his eyes.

Steve was still holding the lever down, the electric sound of the opener loud in his ears, when he squeezed his eyes closed. He held onto the can, keeping it under the continuously turning sharp edges, even though it was now open. He mumbled under his breath. "No. You're here. In the kitchen. You're safe."

Steve didn't hear Nicholas come in the kitchen, only focused on the can opener, the noise keeping him in the present moment. He still mumbled to himself, remembering to breathe, the too real memories failing to drive him fully back into the past.

Nicholas moved to the other side of Steve and reached for the plug, disconnecting the can opener from the outlet. As the sound stopped, he turned to his son, laying a hand on his arm. "You're okay. Open your eyes and look around."

Steve let his hand drop from the can opener, feeling Nicholas take the can itself from him and set it down on the counter. He opened his eyes and looked at his dad. "Sorry. I shouldn't have kept doing that. I guess the noise helped."

"It's okay, Son. I only unplugged it because I didn't want you to accidentally cut yourself." Nicholas looked at Steve's eyes, noticing how wide they were. "Are you all right now?"

Steve nodded. "I think so." He leaned against the counter, heaving in a deep breath. He felt a sudden sense of weakness overcome him, his arms and legs beginning to tingle, and a chill running through his body.

Nicholas squeezed Steve's arm. "Are you sure?"

Steve nodded once more, his eyes still wide. "Yeah. I'm sure. I think I just want to go to bed now though."

"Okay. Just remember-"

"I know, Dad. I know your door is always open."

* * *

Steve zipped up his jacket, as he leaned against his car, the stars twinkling above him. He looked inside the Ford, hearing crickets chirp and the sound of a car door across the street slamming shut. "Maybe one day, I'll be able to look in there without remembering."

He pulled himself up to sit on the hood of the car and fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket. "I know I should go to sleep, but can I talk to you, God? Like how my dad says he does?" Steve looked up at the sky, tapping his foot against the fender. "I guess I have already cause I tell you what I'm thinking sometimes, but I feel like it just comes out. I don't really decide to pray."He breathed in the cool air, his foot still tapping. "That flashback scared me, God. It was different when I had one at the hospital. I knew I couldn't hurt myself there. But now that I'm home, I don't know. I keep thinking I did it once, and I still have the thoughts. It's hard not to ever wish I hadn't survived when it's all still the same."

Steve held still, his eyes searching the sky, as if a divine response could be found among the moon and stars. "I feel like I couldn't say that to anyone but Laura. I know it'd hurt them even more to know I could think that."

He lie back on the hood of the Ford, turning his head to see the house, thinking of Nicholas, who was inside asleep for the night. "Please help my dad, God. I know he prays for me, so I should for him too, right? I want him to know he didn't fail me. I don't want him to keep blaming himself for anything. I wouldn't be alive without him being here for me."

Steve looked away from the house and back up at the sky, as he lifted himself up on his elbows. "Help Soda too, God. I know there's something he isn't telling me, and I know he's still real sad. I wouldn't be here without him either. I don't know if he knows that."

Steve sat back up, his hands in his lap, as he turned around to see the street, the only light the lamps along the sidewalk. "And Evie. God, you know what scares me. You know why I can't even talk to her to fix things. She deserves to know, and she deserves better than I can be after everything. Please help us both figure out what we should do."

He looked through the windshield of the Ford, his eyes still able to see ghosts of the images from the day he tried to take his own life. "And help me find peace, God. Even if it's only a little bit. Just make it all not hurt as much."

* * *

Nicholas_ took Steve's hand in his own, the coldness of his skin shocking him. He looked at his son's face, taking in the closed eyes and waxy appearance. He started to speak, but he found he couldn't, as he perceived the stiffness of the hand he still held and the eerie stillness of Steve's chest._

_ Nicholas moved his eyes around, though he didn't release his son's hand. He saw the silk that surrounded Steve, soft material creating a place of rest for him. He saw the box that encased him, its lid open, just as he felt his own heart stop beating._

Nicholas jolted awake, sitting up in bed, the image of his son dead in a casket one he longed to erase from his mind. He felt himself shaking, his heart pounding, still beating despite the dream that reminded him the sorrow and grief would kill him too if Steve died.

Nicholas slid out of the bed, unsteady on his feet, as he still pictured the way Steve had looked. He could feel that cold hand in his own, sense the lack of life that had made his dream-self snap out of a despair induced denial. He made his way to Steve's bedroom and opened the door only enough to see his son.

Nicholas looked at Steve's face, taking in his closed eyes and the natural color of his skin. He watched silently, seeing the rise and fall of his son's chest, hearing the light snoring that told him he was breathing. He saw Steve's arm stretched out across the bed, imagining how he could squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back, the strength of life still present.

Nicholas looked at Steve's pillow, where his head lay and the sheet that covered him. He saw the blanket partially wrapped around him, the bed and its covers creating a place of comfort for his son until he rose in the morning, rested for the day that was ahead.

* * *

Steve got out of his car, his foot stepping on the painted white line of the parking space in the middle lot of St. John's hospital. He looked around, not seeing Nicholas yet, then his eyes landed on a sign that was far away, yet seemed so close. The glowing red letters read "EMERGENCY," marking the entrance he and his dad had gone through just over a week ago.

Even from a distance, Steve could see the area where Nicholas had parked his car that day, before helping him out of the passenger side. He remembered going through the double doors of the ER, his dad holding onto him, as if he believed the contact would prevent the overdose from having a chance to drain the life out of his son's body.

Steve saw an ambulance pass by, its sirens wailing, as it approached the entrance. The sound filled his ears, and the lights flashed. He was still watching it after it stopped, and paramedics threw open the back doors, beginning to slide a stretcher out. Steve saw the brown leather, a person lying on it, the body so still, he thought maybe-

Nicholas shook Steve's shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts on the scene unfolding on the opposite side of the hospital. "Son?"

Steve blinked, looking from the emergency area to his dad. "Huh? Sorry. Just feels kind of weird to be here again."

"I know. I thought the same thing." Nicholas wrapped an arm around Steve, guiding him toward the main entrance, his hold as tight as it had been the day be brought his son here to save his life.

* * *

Steve stepped inside Dr. Reynolds' office, the color and scenery displayed now a familiar sight. He took a seat on the couch, as the psychiatrist held out his hand, the firm shake still a welcome one.

Dr. Reynolds smiled, as he released Steve's hand, rolling his chair next to the desk of photos and papers. "I know it's a basic question that can have a lot of different answers, but how are you, Steve?"

Steve met the doctor's eyes for a moment, then looked around the small office, gleaning comfort and a sense of relaxation from the atmosphere. "Um, I'm doing okay, I guess. I mean, obviously not great, but not bad either."

"You've been to see your counselor since you got discharged?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

"Have you experienced any more side effects from the Elavil?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't think so. It actually helps me sleep better now. That's all."

Dr. Reynolds scribbled notes down on a sheet of paper attached to his clipboard. "Good. I was hoping for that. How are other things, like school? Your job?"

"All right. I guess. It was weird to go home at first. Really hard, actually. I was nervous about school, but it hasn't been bad. It was good to get back to work."

Dr. Reynolds put down his pen, turning his chair to fully face Steve. "So how about your mental state? What have you been feeling and thinking since going home? It's a general question, I know. But I want to hear what you have to say, before I ask anything more specific."

Steve found his gaze drifting to the painting of the rainbow and the Bible verse underneath it, then to the realistic images of water and sky. He glanced at the drawings done in crayon, soothed by the simplicity in a way he couldn't explain. "I guess I've been thinking and feeling a lot of things. It makes me feel kind of mixed up and confused sometimes."

"Confused about what, Steve?"

Steve shifted his eyes back to the rainbow painting, the verse there reminding him he could be strong. He could be honest because he wasn't alone. "Like about what I did, even though I know people in my life love and care about me. About how I lived, but nothing has really changed. Except it's also different now because of what I did."

"When you say 'what I did,' are you talking about your suicide attempt?"

Steve felt himself flinch at the words, recalling when he'd heard the phrase before, and his dad pointed out that it meant he'd survived. Even then, still in the hospital, the dark thought he'd told Laura about had been there. "Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Have you continued to experience thoughts of harming yourself?"

Steve pursed his lips together, pressing his hands into his lap, as he nodded. "Yeah." He looked up at Dr. Reynolds, noticing his expression, the lack of judgment in his eyes. "I'm not planning to try again. I know you're going to ask that. But I'm not. Even when it starts to feel like I want to. Even when it still hurts so bad, I think about what it would be like to die."

* * *

Steve again found himself staring at the "EMERGENCY" sign, the background lit letters a symbol of the life saving work going on inside that area of the hospital. He felt Nicholas beside him, then heard the jingle of keys and rings, as he reached into his pocket. "I should get back to school, Dad."

Nicholas put a hand on Steve's back. "All right. Was it okay talking to him?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Not so bad, I guess. He seems to care, like I'm not just another patient he has to see." Not just another person he has to make sure doesn't kill himself under his professional watch, he thought.

"So you're okay right now?"

Steve unlocked the car door, pulling it open, as he looked at his dad. "Yeah. I think so anyway. I know I'm trying my hardest."

Nicholas patted Steve's shoulder. "I know you are, Son. I'll see you at home."

* * *

Samuel flipped through his Bible, highlighted portions jumping out at him, as he searched for verses that may provide any semblance of guidance. He stopped in the book of John, reading the words of Jesus in the eighth chapter, the twelfth verse:

"Again, Jesus spoke to them saying 'I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'"

Samuel let the words printed in red wash over his soul, recognizing the truth in the statement Jesus had made about himself. "Help me always follow you, Lord, even when it seems dark, when I feel dark inside. God, I don't like bringing up what I'm about to, and I don't know how I feel like it matters so much. But I do, and it isn't mine to hide. It isn't mine to keep in the dark. Be my light, God, and help me to be one too."

* * *

Nicholas stepped into the church, the door closing behind him, as he made his way past the rows of pews. He saw Samuel in the front row. "Hey."

Samuel looked up from the Bible in his lap. "Hey. Thanks for coming."

Nicholas took a seat beside Samuel, as he saw his friend close the Bible and put it on his other side. "So what'd you want to talk about?"

Samuel let out a breath, relaxing against the back of the pew. "I know why Steve recognizes Grace. I didn't know if I should tell you about this before, but I have to now after seeing he remembers."

Nicholas leaned forward, his eyes searching Samuel's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Nicholas, Grace knew Clara. She's the one who found her when she died."

Nicholas blinked several times, his mouth dropping open. "I didn't even tell you that name. How did you-?"

Samuel put a steadying hand on his friend's arm. "Grace called me not long after you told me about how Steve was abused. She told me about how she recognized you from back then when she went to your house to tell you Clara had killed herself. Between what you told me and what she said, it was pretty clear you were both talking about the same person. I didn't tell her what I knew about the situation though, just so you know."

Nicholas' eyes were wide, as he pressed a hand to his forehead, a memory flashing in his mind. "Steve was right next to me when she told me Clara was dead. No wonder he looked at her like that on Sunday. I thought she looked kind of familiar, but I didn't realize..."

"After I saw the way Steve looked at her, I knew I should tell you, especially after what you told me about how he has the flashbacks. This seems like it would be another memory for him."

"It sure is. Maybe I didn't really recognize her because it was different for me to hear Clara was dead. Since she'd hurt my little boy, I couldn't feel sorry for her. I couldn't be sorry to hear she was dead because the second I knew what she was doing..." Nicholas closed his eyes, shaking his head, as the memory of when he'd found Clara abusing Steve played back in his mind. "But Steve? I didn't know it then because I tried so hard to be done with what happened, but hearing that really affected him."

"Grace told me about it, not just because of you, but because it all bothered her. Still does. She hasn't ever known exactly why Clara had to leave your house. Just that you accused her of something. She knows even less why she...Well, why she died that way. I can see how finding her like that could haunt Grace."

"Maybe I shouldn't even want to ask this, but like what? What happened to her?"

Samuel weighed his words, remembering what his sister-in-law had told him about what she found, the terrible scene that unfolded inside her own home. "She took a knife from Grace's kitchen, and she bled to death in the guest bedroom."


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: I'm way too soon again, but can't help myself! :) Both this chapter and the next have such key moments in them, so here we are!

Nicholas pushed the knife's blade into the center of a green bell pepper, hearing it hit the cutting board. He sliced the vegetable into two pieces, then into four, before chopping it into several smaller ones.

Watching the knife pierce the pepper, Nicholas couldn't help but think of what Samuel had told him. He pictured Clara slicing her skin open, so much blood flowing out that it killed her, then the image of Steve dead in the dream he'd had only the night before replaced the gory scene. He remembered how he'd stashed away the knife he was using, along with every other sharp object and poison he'd imagined could be harmful, in an effort to do anything he could to protect his son. Nicholas hadn't mentioned the action to Steve and didn't know if he'd noticed anything, but he still planned to put the knife back out of his sight once he was done with it.

As Nicholas tossed the pieces of bell pepper into the salad he'd made, he contemplated what he should tell Steve. If his son hadn't recognized Grace, seemingly bothered by the familiarity, he wouldn't even consider telling him anything he'd learned from Samuel today. Given how much Clara's death evidently still bothered him, it wouldn't be constructive. It could even hurt him, which was the last thing Nicholas wanted. As it was, he chose to focus on deciding how much to tell Steve, realizing he couldn't keep the reason his son seemed to know Grace a secret when it was part of the past he was struggling to live with everyday.

* * *

Steve put the pill his dad had given him in his mouth, then picked up the glass of iced water, swallowing both. He felt the tablet go down his throat, the cold liquid following it. I wonder if I'll ever be able to take a pill without thinking about the time I took too many, he thought, setting the glass back down. He picked up his toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles.

Nicholas yelled from his bedroom. "Son, have you seen my brown jacket? You know, the suede one?"

"I think it's in the laundry room, Dad." Steve heard Nicholas' feet go down the hall, as he started to brush his teeth. He was still doing so, his mouth full of foam, when his dad appeared next to him. Steve felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and squeeze him, as a kiss was pressed to the side of his head. He spit toothpaste into the sink. "Are you all right, Dad?"

Nicholas gave Steve another squeeze, noticing their side by side reflections in the mirror above the sink. "Yes. I'm okay. I just felt like it. That's all."

Steve smiled, as he rinsed his mouth with water. "You could've let me finish brushing my teeth first."

Nicholas kept his eyes on the mirror, even as he smiled at his son. "Yeah, I guess I could've."

Steve set his toothbrush back in the holder. "Do you have something on your mind? You look like I do when I think too much."

"No. I'm fine." Nicholas pulled his gaze away from the mirror to look at Steve's face. "You work this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just wondered." Nicholas gave Steve one more squeeze, before letting him go. "I'll see you tonight then."

* * *

Nicholas held two red roses in his hands, as he stood next to his wife's grave. "Hi, honey, I know I don't come here as much as I used to, but I still think of you everyday." He kneeled down, one knee pressing into the grass, as he laid the roses on the stone marker.

He stared at Rose's name, the engraved letters chiseled there in memory of the only woman he'd ever truly loved. "One rose is from me. The other is from Steve. I don't know how much you see from Heaven, but I have to believe you were watching over him. I'm not ready for him to join you, and I never will be."

Nicholas picked up one of the roses and touched the petals, the soft silk brushing over his skin. "You were even more beautiful than these roses. I miss you, honey. I always will. I'm trying to figure out what to do right now. I think you'd tell me if you could. I don't want to make the same mistake I did back then when I didn't talk to him, but I don't want to hurt him with anything I know now either."

He lay the rose back down next to its match, the red petals of each one beside his wife's name. He sighed, folding his hands, as he looked up. "God, help me know what to say to Steve. I don't know what else to ask for. I'm not sure how he's going to feel about any of this, but as much as part of me wants to avoid it, I know I can't do that."

* * *

Steve stood next to his locker, his math book open, as he stared at the pages. He saw Evie out of the corner of his eye, speaking just as she came to stand beside him. "Hey."

Evie kissed Steve's cheek, then leaned against the lockers next to his. "Hey, sweetie. Are we going out this weekend?"

Steve shrugged, closing the math book, but avoiding Evie's gaze. "I don't know."

"I was thinking maybe we could go to the drive-in. You know I've been wanting to lately."

Steve shrugged once more. "Maybe. I guess. If you want."

"You don't want to?"

"It doesn't really matter to me. We can do whatever." Steve crouched down to pick up the remainder of his books that he'd put on the floor. "Not like it's going to matter anyway?"

"Huh?"

Steve stood back up, his arms tight around his belongings, as he looked at Evie. "I said do you want to go tomorrow or Saturday?"

* * *

The water flowed in front of Steve's eyes. He wore his DX uniform, the grass beneath his feet, as he crouched down in front of the creek. His shadow moved along with him, as he picked up a stick and used it to stir the water, making it swirl and ripple, even in the absence of a breeze.

Steve stared at the water, as he continued to disturb the natural stillness of it. "What am I doing here?" He drew his hand back and threw the stick as hard as he could. He watched it go through the air, before landing just in front of the area of grass straight across from him.

He stood to his full height and turned away from the water, walking over to the tree nearby and sitting down beneath the branches. He could see the parking lot and his own car. "I really should go."

Steve picked up a leaf, letting it lay in the palm of his hand, as he looked back at the water. "I'm going to be late for work." He didn't take his eyes off the creek, closing his fist over the leaf and hearing it crunch under his fingers. He let it drop back onto the grass, as he got to his feet and made his way to the Ford.

* * *

Soda tried not to count the seconds ticking by, as his most recent customer pocketed his change and left the DX. He tried not the count the minutes that went by while his coworker, Billy, filled the gas tanks of cars that lined up outside. He tried to be calm and smile when the drivers came inside to pay for gas. But he stared at the door, at the parking lot, then at the phone.

Soda's head turned when he heard the bell ding, letting out a breath when he saw it was Steve.

Steve looked at the clock, as he rushed inside, putting his DX cap on his head. "Sorry I'm late. Time just kind of got away from me." He punched in, noticing Soda's lack of response. He eyed his friend. "You okay, man? You look worried or something."

Soda shook his head, looking at the clock again. "Cause I was."

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Soda glanced at the cars outside. "The last time you were late," He turned his gaze to Steve. "you didn't just lose track of time, and I was here waiting for you."

"Oh. Shit, Soda. I didn't realize..." Steve ran a hand down his face. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It ain't your fault." Soda offered Steve a grin. "But I'm glad you're just late this time."

* * *

Samuel leaned forward in the rocking chair on his front porch. "Should I not have told you?"

Nicholas sat back in his own chair, making it rock slightly. "Oh, I appreciate that you told me. I'm just not sure what to do with it. If Steve didn't recognize Grace, I would just keep all of it to myself but" He sighed. "it's his past too. It just seems like I'm going to hurt him, no matter what I say."

"You can tell me if I shouldn't ask this, but how did hearing about Clara's death affect him?"

"Because of how I messed up back then, I didn't know it at the time, but Steve blamed himself. I guess because she was abusing him and made him believe that was his fault, he ended up feeling guilty for all of it. So seeing Grace must bring that back for him."

"Could it help him to know why she looks familiar?"

"Maybe. I don't know. This is somehow making me understand more about my frame of mind back then. I honestly thought I was doing the best thing when I tried to make both of us forget about what happened. I was selfish too, but I did believe that. I won't do it, but now, there's this part of me that wants to not talk to him about this."

"Does he still feel guilty about her death?"

Nicholas nodded. "Sometimes. We talked about it not long ago. He knows it's not his fault, but..." He massaged his temples, closing his eyes. "It scares me so much to bring it up because of what he's been going through now. I don't want anything to make that worse." I don't want him to hurt himself again because of that guilt, Nicholas thought. I don't want him to have so much pain inside because of her that he can only see one way out.

* * *

Darry opened the front door and stepped inside the house. He saw Soda at the counter, as he took his tool belt off. "Hey, little buddy."

Soda looked up from the mashed potatoes and multiple bottles of food coloring, a yellow one still in his hand. "Oh. Hey, Dar. I was starting to wonder just how late you were working."

"You were awfully focused there, weren't you?" Darry walked closer, looking at Soda's creation. "Is this because of what I said when you didn't color the mashed potatoes last time?"

Soda picked up the container of green coloring. "Yeah. And it's distracting."

Darry chuckled. "It's something all right. Does Pony know he's having the whole rainbow for dinner?"

Soda smiled, adding orange coloring next. "Not the _whole _rainbow. I don't have any blue."

* * *

Steve gripped the steering wheel, his eyes on the road, as the DX station faded into the distance. His headlights shone on the path in front of him, making the way clear, despite the beginning of night. He flipped on his left blinker, changing lanes, before he made a turn, his subconscious leading him in a previous direction.

Steve drove past rows of houses, which soon became trees, as he got farther away from the main part of town. He kept going forward, pressing on the gas pedal, uncertain of why he had chosen to travel this road again. He kept the radio at a low volume, wanting to hear the thoughts in his head. Words from another drive came back to him, as he saw a gas station up ahead. He drove the rest of the distance and pulled into the the parking lot.

Steve stopped the car and looked around, the lot familiar, though it'd merely been a background to him the last time he was in it. "Why couldn't I have left all that out here?"

He remembered the moments at the creek, his reason for being there that afternoon one he couldn't fully understand. Yet, he knew what each of these places held for him. Steve recognized the memories connected to them and how they both paralleled and rivaled one another in his mind that wanted some form of resolution he wasn't sure existed.

* * *

Nicholas sat on the steps of the front porch, the Bible at his side. He found himself trying not to worry when Steve didn't come home at this usual time. But how can I not worry? he wondered. How can I not think something has happened again? He stood up and paced the porch, its light shining on him. "God, I can't do this every time he doesn't come right home for some reason. It's not that late. And it's not like anything happened today." But I didn't know anything had happened that day either, he reasoned to himself.

Nicholas dropped onto the porch swing, eyeing his watch. "If he's much longer, I'll call-" He looked up and saw Steve's car on the street, headlights shining in the driveway, as his son drove into it. He let out a breath, sagging against the back of the swing, relief coming over his heart. "Thank God."

Nicholas stayed where he was, as Steve got out of his car and approached the porch. "Hey, I was getting worried about you."

Steve came up the steps and sat down beside his dad. "That seems to be my thing today. Sorry, Dad. I just went for a drive. That's all."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure stuff out, and I'm not sure I'm getting anywhere."

* * *

Steve stared at Laura, the counselor he'd come to trust, the words to explain the thoughts in his mind on the tip of his tongue.

Laura watched her client, looking for signs she was trained to see, even realizing they could be invisible. "You can tell me what you're thinking, Steve. I'm here to help."

"I know. I just- It's hard to know what I'm wanting to say. Evie asked me if we're going out this weekend. I told her it didn't matter to me."

"Okay. Why doesn't it matter to you?"

"Because I know it doesn't make any difference. It's over. I don't feel better about anything that happened between us."

"What's still been bothering you?"

"All of it. I think it's worse now too since... Since I was in the hospital. I mean, we shouldn't be together just because we think that's how it's supposed to be."

"Have you told Evie how you've been feeling?"

"No. She wants to talk about us, but I told her I can't because I'm afraid we'll get too close. I don't want to hurt her again, and I don't want to get hurt either."

Laura kept her voice soft, still watching Steve. "In what way do you think you would get hurt again?"

The memories went through Steve's mind, their presence still lingering, despite how he and Evie had tried to move on with their relationship. "I could have another flashback." He looked away from Laura, eyes moving down to his feet, as his voice grew quieter. "I don't want to feel like that again, and I don't want to feel as bad as I did after she kissed that guy. I can't go through any of that again. I couldn't take it this time. I was afraid of what I would do then, but now..."

"Are you afraid you would hurt yourself again if faced with similar circumstances?"

Steve nodded. "Even just the flashbacks scare me more now. I think if I ever felt that messed up again or if me and Evie hurt each other more because of my past, I could do it again." He looked back up at Laura, his gaze meeting hers. "But it's even more than being afraid of what else could go wrong. We're still so distant from each other now. We can't even act like a couple the way we should be able to. We're stuck in this place because of what happened, so how can we stay together? Why should we keep doing this when we can't fix it?"

* * *

Evie held a box of popcorn on her lap, eating pieces of it, as she glanced at the movie screen, then at Steve. She reached for his hand, noticing him flinch and almost pull away. "You okay, sweetie?"

Steve nodded, feeling her hand holding his, even as he didn't look at her.

"You just look tense. Is there anything you need to talk about?"

Steve shook his head. "Not right now." He let his eyes slide over to Evie for a moment, before shifting them back to the screen. He attempted to focus on the movie, wanting to lose his thoughts in the fantasy. He watched the world of unreality, a place where even the unsolvable had a solution.

* * *

Steve slid his denim jacket on, as he sat down next to Evie on the swing in her backyard. He gripped the edges of it, unable to look up from the grass underneath his feet.

Evie wrapped her sweater tighter around herself, as she scooted closer to Steve. She laid her head on his shoulder. "It's a pretty night."

"Sure."

"You still seem tense."

"Evie, why are we together?"

Evie lifted her head from Steve's shoulder to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why?" Because we think we're supposed to be? Because we don't want the reason we break up to be anything to do with-"

"Steve, why are you saying all this? We're together because we care about each other."

"Of course, we do. But we're not the same anymore." Steve got to his feet and walked over to the tree that stood just to the side of the swing. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I can't. I can't do this anymore."

Evie stared at Steve, tears filling her eyes. "You can't do what anymore?"

Steve tried to keep the shake out of his voice. "I can't pretend like we can still be a couple when I'm afraid of having another flashback like the one before and when I know I have things in my head that are going to take me a long time to get past. It's too hard to keep feeling all of what I still do and try to be with you when we both know we're stuck and just together because it's all we know."

"What are you feeling that's so hard?" Evie went to stand next to Steve, a few tears going down her cheeks. "Let me help you with it. I hope you're not thinking of hurting yourself again."

Steve shook his head. "No. I'm not going to do that again. I mean, I still feel like that sometimes. I still have the thoughts about it. That's hard too, but I meant how I feel sometimes because of what happened when I was a kid, because of the abuse."

Evie lifted a hand to wipe her eyes, before touching Steve's arm. "Then, talk to me about it, sweetie. I can help. We don't have to break up because of that."

"But we can't stay together just to stop it from breaking us up either. That's not fair to you. It's not even fair to me."

"And what's fair about you doing this when I want to be with you? When I love you?"

Steve walked back toward the swing, pacing in front of it, before he turned and faced Evie. "It's not that easy. We've tried. We did our best. It's not getting better. We haven't been very close since I had that flashback and even less after the rest of what happened. I don't think we can be again, so what's left for us?"

Evie stared at Steve, biting her lower lip, as she wrapped her arms around her middle and gripped the sleeves of her sweater. "Is this because I kissed that guy?"

Steve shook his head, running a hand through his hair, as he looked down at the ground that was becoming blurry. "I don't think it helped, but no. It's everything. I don't even blame you that that happened. I know it was hard on you. I know you don't want to feel connected to the past and what I went through. I don't either."

Evie walked forward to stand in front of Steve. "Tell me. Why did you try to kill yourself?"

"Like I told you. I was hurting, and I couldn't think about anything else. I just wanted to stop it."

"Did I make you hurt more? You can tell me the truth."

Steve lifted his eyes to look right at Evie. "No. _You_ didn't. There's nothing I felt that wasn't already there. And when I was with you isn't the only flashback I've had either. It's happened a lot. It happened right before I overdosed. This pain, this shame, just the way I see myself, that's the same stuff I've been trying to handle for a while. Some of it is better than it was. Some is worse."

Evie reached out and touched Steve's face. "You broke up with me before. What's different this time?"

"I wasn't dealing with anything then. I was only trying to push you and my dad and Sodapop all away. I wouldn't talk about how I was feeling or what I was remembering because I didn't want any of you to see. But I'm not like that now. I'm just being honest with you."

Evie's hand dropped to her side, her mouth open, as more tears formed in her eyes. "So you're serious? We're really breaking up?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, we are." He tucked a strand of Evie's hair behind her ear, before he kissed her temple. "I'm sorry. It's not because I don't care about you. I do, and I always will."

* * *

Steve looked into the bowl that held what remained of the rainbow colored mashed potatoes. "This is a bit much even for you, man."

Soda shrugged, grinning. "I know. Hey, you took Evie home this early?"

Steve nodded, his eyes staring across the kitchen. "It's over."

Soda leaned against the counter. "What's over?"

"We were just going through the motions. It wasn't working."

Though the meaning was clear to him, Soda waited a moment for Steve to continue. When he stayed silent, he reached for his friend's shoulder. "Does that mean you and Evie broke up?"

"Yeah. I told her I couldn't do it anymore."

"Are you okay?"

Steve nodded once more, still staring across the room, as he felt Soda squeeze his shoulder. "I think so. I mean, I'm the one who told her we shouldn't be together."

"That doesn't mean it can't hurt you too."

"I'm okay. Really. I knew it was going to happen, you know?"

"Did something else happen that made you decide to tell her that tonight?"

"No." Steve blinked, shaking his head, as he met Soda's gaze. "I've just been thinking a lot the last few days, and I know we haven't really been able to fix it. We tried but... She didn't want to break up. She kept saying she wants to help me with stuff I'm still feeling. I know she cares about me, but that doesn't seem like enough anymore."

"I'm sorry. I wish I knew what to say, buddy."

"I really thought we would get through it, Soda. It shouldn't be like this."

Soda squeezed Steve's shoulder one more time, before letting go. "I thought you guys would too, man. You both sure went through a lot."

"I still care about her too. But we weren't getting anywhere anymore. Not after the flashback I had and everything else. I still thought we could make it if we tried. Maybe if I could've gotten past some stuff, it'd be different, but I'm not even so sure about that."

* * *

Evie remained outside, her legs curled up under her, the sweater that protected her from the evening chill also the one to catch the tears she cried.

Irene stepped into the backyard, not expecting to see her daughter along on the swing. "Steve left already, honey?"

Evie looked toward her mother, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. "We're not together anymore, Mom."

Irene went to sit next to Evie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. What happened?"

"Just what's been happening for a while now. He broke up with me. I didn't want to give up." Evie's voice cracked, her words growing choked. "But he's right."

Irene reached out to stroke Evie's hair. "What did he say?"

"That we tried our best, but it's not working. Things haven't been the same with us anymore. He doesn't blame me, and I don't blame him, but we can't fix it."

"Honey, you two are so young to be dealing with what you have. It's been hard on both of you. Many adults couldn't get through it, or even try for as long as you did."

"But I still care about Steve, and I know he cares about me too. At first, I didn't even believe what was happening because of how he broke up with me before when he felt so bad. But this isn't like that. He was telling the truth about us."

Irene wrapped her arms around Evie. "I know you care about him. Of course, you do. I know it's been really hard for you to see him in pain too when you can't make it go away for him. You're always going to care, even if you're not together."

Evie felt tears slide down her cheeks, as she let her mother hold her. "I hope and pray so much he's going to be okay with everything he's been through one day and that he doesn't hurt himself again."

Irene squeezed Evie a little tighter. "I know. That was hard for me to hear about too. Both because I know you love him and because he's barely older than you. I couldn't help but imagine how difficult it had to be for his dad."

"I didn't want to break up because of anything to do with what's been hurting him, and I keep thinking I don't want to let go, Mom. I don't want it to be over."

"I know it hurts, honey. But you'll be okay. I know you will. And maybe it is just time to let go."

* * *

"Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Nicholas sat in his bedroom, staring at the verse in 1 Corinthians that held absolute certainty about what love is and what it is not, studying the words that created the picture of how it should look and what it should be.

Steve looked in at him. "Hey, Dad. Just wanted to tell you I'm home."

Nicholas kept the Bible open, as he turned his gaze to Steve. "Hey, Son. How was your night?"

Steve sighed, leaning his head on the door. "Not the best. Me and Evie broke up."

Nicholas put the Bible down on the bed, then got to his feet, going to stand closer to Steve. "How are you about that?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I guess. I should be anyway. I've been thinking a lot lately, and I told her we shouldn't stay together. I'm the one who did it."

Nicholas nodded. "You did tell me you didn't think it would ever be the same between you two. But that can't make it easy for you."

"We tried. We really did. I'll always care about her. But I guess it's over. I'm the one who told her I couldn't do it anymore." It's over because of me, Steve thought.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N : Who am I kidding here? I cannot wait to post this chapter!:) I'm too excited about it and the moments that are so important for these characters! But the next one isn't even near finished, so definitely my last in this row of fast updates! I'm going to be so sad when this story wraps up, but I believe that's getting close. Thank you for reading!

Steve stirred what was left of the scrambled eggs his dad had made for him, before shoving a bite into his mouth. He pushed the plate away, as he chewed, then swallowed. "I think you were right, Dad. I did need to eat something."

Nicholas clipped his name tag to his work shirt. "Did you ever eat last night?"

"I had some popcorn. I guess I wasn't that hungry. I didn't really think about it after..." Steve trailed off, as he got up from the table.

"Son, it's okay if you feel bad about you and Evie breaking up. I'm getting the idea that you think it shouldn't bother you."

"I'm all right. I just didn't sleep that great. People break up all the time. It's for the best anyway."

"Sure. They do, and maybe that's true. I'm just saying it can still hurt."

* * *

The baseball hovered in the air, as Steve made the mechanical player swing his bat. He heard a crack, then a whoosh, while the machine displayed the words "Home Run."

Soda appeared from the other side of the arcade, eyeing the Magic Baseball game's tiny player. "That thing looks kind of creepy."

Steve made the player swing his bat once more, but missed the ball this time. "It's kind of a pain in the ass too."

"I'm about to go grab a bite to eat."

Steve spoke, as the bat made contact with the ball again. "Yeah. I'm kind of hungry." He followed Soda to the arcade's dining area, where he reached into his pocket and counted the coins he found. He saw Soda start to go forward to order, but he reached over and put a hand on his friend's arm.

"What is it, man?"

"I need to go get some air." Steve handed Soda the coins from his pocket. "Take this and get me a hotdog and a Pepsi. Please."

Soda nodded. "Okay. Of course, I will."

"Thanks. I'll be back."

* * *

Steve stood out on the sidewalk, looking in each direction. Teenagers walked past him, going into and coming out of the arcade. He walked several yards away from the building, before taking a seat on the curb.

Cars drove up and down the strip, kids heading to the Dingo, the bowling alley, and the ice cream shop. Steve saw guys with groups of friends and couples walking hand-in-hand. "Maybe I shouldn't be out here."

He took one deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of early evening, before going back inside the arcade.

* * *

Soda walked beside Steve, the busy scenery of the strip giving way to the nearly empty lot and the park not far from the Curtis' house. "So what now?"

Steve sipped Pepsi through a straw, the carbonated taste not the same, but still a reminder that made him pause for a moment. "I don't know. I thought you'd want to take Suzie out again tonight."

"Nah. She's out with some girl friends. I think she's kind of annoyed with me anyway."

"Why's that?"

"I don't look too tuff when I keep getting in trouble with my big brother. That's my fault though, not Darry's."

"She seemed like she likes you though."

"Yeah. But she likes me better when I can drive and when I can stay out late. It's going to be a while for either of those."

"Maybe Superman will let you off the hook soon."

"I doubt it. To be honest, he really shouldn't either."

* * *

Pony smiled, as he chucked a pillow at TwoBit, hitting him square in the face.

TwoBit swung another pillow at Pony's head, but missed when he ducked out of the way. "Hey, you started it, Kid!"

Pony laughed. "And I'm the better shot."

Darry's voice came from the kitchen. "Don't break anything in there, you two!"

Pony started to respond, but was interrupted by a pillow in his face.

TwoBit chuckled. "Come on, you should've been paying attention!"

Pony ran forward and caught TwoBit in a headlock.

TwoBit struggled against the hold. "Damn, Kid. When did you grow muscles?"

Steve walked into the living room, Soda right behind him. "Well, he _is_ Superman's little brother."

TwoBit broke out of Pony's hold and tackled him to the floor. "I still win, Kid."

Soda smiled. "Not for long."

Steve sat down on the couch, propping his elbow up on the coffee table and holding his hand out to Pony. "Hey, Kid. Think you can take me at arm wrestling?

Pony sat down across from Steve and gripped his hand, a grin on his face. "You're on, Randle!"

* * *

Darry joined the rest of the guys in the living room, just as Steve pinned Pony's arm to the table, winning the match. "I bet you can't take me, Steve."

Soda laughed. "Oh! Darry wants to show off his muscles now!"

Darry smacked Soda over the head. "You better watch it, little buddy. Or you'll be next in line after Steve."

Steve nodded to Darry. "Show me what you got, Superman."

TwoBit sat on the arm of the couch. "Are you kidding? Darry could beat any of us."

Soda stood behind Darry, chuckling, as he messed up his big brother's hair. "I don't know. He's aged since he almost broke Steve's face."

Darry turned to look at Soda, unable to keep from smiling. "Keep your hands out of my hair, little man, before I _age_ you."

Pony smirked. "Better watch it, Sodapop. He's going to show his muscles off on you!"

Just as Darry gripped Steve's hand with his own, beginning the match, TwoBit spoke up. "Hey, Steve."

Steve pushed his hand against Darry's, using all his strength. "What, TwoBit? I'm kind of busy here."

TwoBit stared at his friend for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. "I'm just curious. Why didn't you ever fix your face?"

* * *

When he finally went home for the night, Steve found Nicholas on the couch, NBC playing a movie on the television. He sat down next to him. "So what are we watching?"

Nicholas switched off the TV before looking at Steve. "I was barely even paying attention to it. Son, I hate to do this, but I've been putting off telling you something."

"So tell me."

Nicholas folded his hands, swallowing, as he looked down at his lap. "I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it, but you know I'm here for you."

Steve stared at Nicholas, licking his lips. "I know, Dad. I always know. What is it? What's going on?"

"Remember Grace at the church?"

"Yeah. What's she have to do with anything?"

Nicholas let out a breath, hesitating, as he looked at Steve. "There's a reason she looks familiar to you."

"Okay. What is it? I can't figure it out."

Nicholas rested a hand on Steve's back. "Please remember I'm here for you, and I'm only telling you because I know I should."

"Dad, you're scaring me. She's just the pastor's wife. I didn't even tell you how familiar she looked the first time I saw her because it was crazy how weird it made me feel."

"Son, it's not crazy at all. Grace" Nicholas gripped Steve's shoulder, a silent prayer for strength going up to Heaven. "She knew Clara. She's the one who came to our door to tell me she was dead. That's what you remember."

Steve sucked in a breath, the memory of the moment he'd learned of Clara's death tumbling through his mind. "No. I can't do anything or go anywhere without- Not even to church."

"I saw how you looked at her, and I couldn't keep this from you."

Steve shook his head. "But you weren't even sure if you recognized her. How do you know?"

"Seeing her again didn't strike me like it did you because hearing that Clara was gone was different for me. Knowing she hurt you, I couldn't-" Nicholas remembered the day he'd run out of the church sanctuary, overwhelmed at the thought that Steve could try to kill himself. "One Sunday, I had a talk with Samuel about forgiveness. You know how I've struggled with blaming myself for what happened."

Steve nodded, his body frozen on the couch, attempting to process another invasion from the past that continued to be unrelenting. "Yeah."

"I told him about you being abused and about how I caught Clara and made her leave."

"Okay. I didn't know he knew about that. Does anybody else? Does Grace?"

Nicholas squeezed Steve's hand and kept it in his grip. "No, Stevie. No one else. You can trust him. It's okay. But after that talk, Grace called Samuel and was telling him about how she recognized me. He didn't tell me about it right away. He knew he should when you said you recognized her."

Steve's eyes welled with tears, as he remembered Grace leaving their house at the same time he began to carry the guilt created by Clara's suicide. He thought of the nightmares he'd had about her death, an image from the most recent one making him shudder. "That's why I had that dream. The one I had right before I overdosed. It was because I saw Grace, and it made me think of Clara's death. But I didn't know then. I didn't know why seeing her did anything to me. Remember when I didn't feel good that first Sunday I went to church? You and Soda asked me what I was thinking, and I just couldn't tell you."

"I remember."

"But I couldn't imagine- Why would I? Samuel looked kind of familiar too, but it didn't bother me."

"There's a reason for that too. But I didn't know if you saw him or if you would remember anyway."

Steve's mouth dropped open, a troubled expression on his face. "Not him too. He's not-"

Nicholas wrapped an arm around Steve, pulling him closer. "No. Nothing to do with Clara. Remember that day you had the flashback at the DX?"

Steve nodded, resting his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "Yeah."

"He was there, Son. Samuel was one of the people outside. He saw your name tag. I wasn't sure if you'd want to know that then."

"Oh. I sort of remember seeing him, but I was kind of out of it."

"He told me he prayed for you right after seeing that, even though he didn't know what was happening. He just knew you looked scared."

"Right after that was when I almost took those pills. When I first thought of it, and Soda came over."

"Yeah. I know. He felt like he really needed to pray for you, and I believe that was why."

Steve lifted his head from Nicholas' shoulder. "So Grace found Clara, right?"

Nicholas kept his arm around Steve. "Yes. She did."

"And she doesn't know what she did to me?"

"No. Clara didn't tell her, of course. She told her something happened here, and Grace let her stay with her."

"So how did Clara die? What happened?"

Nicholas put a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. "I was afraid you'd ask that."

"Dad, I already know she killed herself. It's not like it gets worse than that."

Nicholas thought of Samuel's words, of the fact that the brutal scene still bothered Grace, and of Steve's remaining guilt. He came to a decision. "It does get worse, Son. And I can't tell you that part. Just trust me."

"But why? I'm not a kid now, and we've talked about everything else. If you all know, why can't I?"

Nicholas moved his arm from Steve's shoulders and held onto his hand. "Because I know how hearing about her death affected you, and you don't want the details in your head. Please trust me."

"Knowing what she did isn't going to make all that worse. It's not like-" Steve stopped, staring at Nicholas. "Do you think I would do what she did if I knew?"

"No! Son, that's not what I think at all! I just don't want you to hurt more over her death than you already have. You needed to know why you recognized Grace, but not the rest of it."

Steve pulled his hand out of Nicholas' grip. "You'd tell me if you didn't think I might hurt myself again. She had to leave because of what she did to me, so I should know what happened to her after that."

"Son, I wouldn't have told you any of this if you didn't remember Grace. I'm not telling you what Clara did to herself because you've told me it still makes you feel guilty. You don't need to know."

"But that's not fair. I do need to know."

"Why? Why do you need to know?"

Steve scooted away from Nicholas, getting to his feet. "I just do."

Nicholas stood up, getting close to Steve and putting his hands on his shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you more by telling you how she died."

"But, Dad, I'm not keeping things from you, and I won't do what she did."

"I'm not saying you will, but please trust me on this, Son. You have enough bad memories."

Steve brought his hands up to hold onto Nicholas' arms. He met his dad's eyes, as tears threatened to fall from his own. "You don't get it, Dad."

Before Nicholas could reply, Steve released him and disappeared down the hallway. He heard his son's bedroom door slam shut and started to go forward, uncertainty his companion, as he stepped into the hallway himself. He stared at the closed door, before softly knocking.

Steve's voice responded to the sound. "Can I just be alone, Dad? Please?"

Nicholas leaned his head against the door, the tears in his son's voice making him want to go inside and cry with him. "Are you sure, Son?"

"I'm sure. I'm just going to sleep."

Nicholas slowly pushed the door open only a little bit, wanting to see his son. "I'm sorry I upset you. That's the last thing I wanted."

Steve hugged a pillow to his chest, a tear dripping onto it, as he looked at Nicholas. "I'm not upset because of you, okay? I didn't mean to sound like that."

Nicholas nodded, aching to comfort Steve. "We'll talk in the morning then. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you need right now. Please come to my room if you change your mind."

* * *

Steve closed his eyes to sleep, pulling the blanket on his bed up over his face. He remembered Nicholas' words that reminded him he was still there, just down the hall. "Come on, you're fine. You're not a little kid." He thought of Grace and her connection to Clara, a path that had somehow circled back to him. I can never get away from her, he mused. I can never get away from it.

Steve's mind flashed back to the unexpressed thoughts he'd had as a child that were a response to knowing Clara was dead, to knowing she had taken her own life. He pushed the blanket off of himself and sat up, holding his head in his hands. "No, don't think about that." He reminded himself to breathe, the darkness of his bedroom taunting him, as he could picture Clara's face and could see her fleeing from the scene of her discovered abuse.

Steve remembered the confusing fear and relief, as Nicholas told her to get away from his son and to get out of the house. He remembered Grace's face at their door just days later, saying Clara was dead, that she'd killed herself and she had found her.

Steve could still hear the thoughts that had gone through his head when he was a little boy too young to understand what was happening and why. He only knew Clara had touched him and that she'd been caught. He knew she had to leave because what she did was bad. He knew he had wanted her to stop. That was all he wanted.

Steve pressed his face into the blanket, the thoughts and questions that were evidence of unearned guilt and confusion playing through his mind: _I just wanted you to stop. I didn't want you to die. What did I do? _

He couldn't stop the wave of anxiety and sadness that made those moments of his childhood as real as they had been back then. He looked up at the ceiling. "God, please. Please make it stop."

The emotions kept flooding his heart, more past thoughts coming with them: _I didn't tell you to die. Why would you hurt yourself? Is it my fault?_

Steve got out of his bed, his breaths and footsteps deliberate, the surge of childhood musings born of the shame created by abuse only rising higher: _You hurt me, so why do I care that you're gone? You weren't supposed to be in my bed. Why were you? All you had to do was stop, and I wouldn't have even told. Why didn't you just leave me alone? Why didn't you care about me?_

Steve reached his dad's room and went to his side, shaking his shoulder. "Dad. Please. Please wake up. I can't do it. I need you."

Nicholas' eyes fluttered open, taking in Steve's face and the darkness of the room. He sat up and switched on the lamp. Before he could speak, Steve was on the bed with him, his son's arms so tight around him, he wondered how he could still breathe.

Steve held onto Nicholas, seeking solace from his mind and memories. His grip only tightened when he remembered his earlier words, fearing his dad slipping away, leaving him alone.

Nicholas moved only enough to wrap his arms around Steve. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere, Son. I'm right here, I swear."

Steve didn't loosen his grip on Nicholas, his face hidden in his chest. "I don't want to care, Dad. I don't, and I didn't mean to push you away."

"You didn't push me away, Son. You don't want to care about what?"

"But I didn't mean to. I just wanted her to stop. I didn't want her to die."

Nicholas closed his eyes, resting his cheek against Steve's hair. "I know, Son. I know. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault."

"I wanted her to care. But she didn't. And I don't want to either. I don't want to care what happened to her."

"But it's okay that you do, Steve. It's okay to care."

"But I shouldn't cause she hurt me. But I didn't mean for her to kill herself."

Nicholas pressed a kiss to the top of Steve's head. "Please don't blame yourself anymore, Son. Please. You didn't do that."

"But I know what it's like. I know how it feels to want to die."

Nicholas still held onto Steve, but turned his head toward his bedroom window. The slats of the blind were open, and he could see slices of the sky. He knew God was there, watching and listening. "Please heal this pain, God. Take away this guilt. Heal my son."

* * *

Nicholas felt his attention being divided between watching Steve and listening to what Pastor David was saying. His son's words from the night before replayed in his mind, those moments making him understand the depths of guilt and pain that had hollowed out a place in Steve's heart, allowing them to keep existing after all this time.

Nicholas caught pieces of the sermon, the words "belief," "healing," and "salvation" intermingling with the rest of his thoughts. He saw Steve look down at the Bible, his eyes reading the words on the page, before he turned his gaze to Pastor David, then to Grace.

Samuel turned his head and glanced at Steve, before locking eyes with Nicholas.

Nicholas nodded at him, a confirmation, though he was still uncertain if he'd done the right thing by telling Steve who Grace was. He'd wanted him to know, before he saw her again, hoping the truth could shine enough light to break the power of any emotions his son felt upon coming face to face with a memory.

* * *

Steve stepped inside the house, with Nicholas right behind him. "I'm really okay. Last night was just- I was just feeling bad. I'm over it now."

Nicholas hung up his jacket and set the Bible down on the kitchen table. "I'm glad you still came with me. I didn't know if you would want to after what we talked about."

Steve shrugged. "It's still church. And Grace is just a person. It's not like she did anything wrong."

"So it wasn't a mistake for me to tell you?"

"No. At least now when I see her, it's not as weird because I know why."

* * *

Evie put a hand on Patricia's arm. "It's okay. Don't be mad at him.

Patricia sighed. "I can't help it. You're my friend, and he broke your heart. You really think it's over for good?"

Evie nodded. "I do. But I'm not mad at Steve. It's not his fault."

"But why did he keep leading you on after you kissed Tommy, if he was just going to break up with you now?"

"He didn't lead me on. It wasn't like that. _He's _not like that."

"He's not seeing somebody else, is he?"

Evie shook her head. "No. It's not like that either."

"So what's it like then?"

* * *

Steve put his sheet of paper face-down on the nightstand when he saw Soda. "Hey, man."

Soda sat down on the bed. "Hey. What are you working on?"

"Just a list of some stuff." Steve eyed the paper, wanting to not just remember, but truly believe, the words he'd written. "Sort of like what I did with Laura to, you know, distract me from..."

"It's okay to say it. I mean, you don't have to. I get it. But still."

Steve nodded. "Some of it is the same as that, but I kind of added to it not long after I got out of the hospital."

* * *

Patricia sat with her English notebook in her lap. "You know what I love about you?"

Evie shrugged. "What?"

Patricia pressed the tip of her pencil erase to her chin. "How nice you are. But no, 'nice' isn't the word. I'm not sure what to call it, but it's amazing how you are about this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you're not talking badly about Steve, how you're even defending him."

"I guess I just can't be like that. It's not his fault or mine. It just is."

"See? You're doing it again. A lot of girls would go around tearing a guy apart after he broke up with her like that. Not one secret would be safe."

"Well, that probably means those girls never loved them in the first place. I could never do that to Steve. I still care about him too much, no matter what."

Patricia smiled. "That's good. Sweet too because I know you mean it." She turned back to her English notebook, beginning to write at the top of a page. "Even though I can't see Steve having any secrets to hide anyway."

* * *

Steve leaned against the jungle gym, flicking ashes from the cigarette in his hand, before putting it out. He pressed his fist to his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed. "The sun is killing me out here, man."

Soda sat on a bar in the middle of the jungle gym. "What do you mean?"

Steve didn't open his eyes, gritting his teeth. "What does it look like I mean? My head hurts."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't know."

"I don't mean to snap at you. You're not the one who hit my head with a hammer."

"Should we go back to your house?"

Steve opened his eyes, looking away from the bright sun, as he still rubbed his head. He nodded, feeling the pain sharpen. "It hurts really bad."

Soda watched Steve's eyes close again and jumped down from the jungle gym. "Are you going to be okay to walk back?"

Steve held his head in both hands and sat down on the bar closest to him. "It hasn't hurt like this since I was a kid."

Soda stood next to Steve and put a hand on his back. "Let's just hang out here a minute."

Steve didn't look up, the pain too great and the light of day too bright. "Okay."

"Just tell me when it feels a little better, and we'll walk to my house. It's closer, and we have some aspirin you can take."

* * *

Soda took the glass of water from Steve and set it down on the table by the couch. He switched the TV on, turning the volume low, before sitting down next to his friend.

Steve lay his head back on the couch, the pain much less intense than it had been at the park. "Hey, Soda?"

Soda stared at the TV screen. "Yeah?"

"You want to know something crazy?"

"Um. Sure."

"My dad just told me last night that this lady at church knew Clara."

Soda turned away from the screen to look at Steve, his eyebrows raised. "Huh?"

"Yeah. She's the pastor's wife, Samuel's sister-in-law. Her name is Grace."

"How did she know her?"

Steve looked at Soda, his head still laying back against the couch. "I'm not sure. But she's the one who found her after she died. I knew she looked too familiar."

"Grace did?"

Steve nodded, as he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. "She came over to tell us Clara killed herself. My dad was there. I was too. I heard her say it."

Soda saw a film of tears in Steve's eyes when they opened again and touched his shoulder. "Are you okay about this, buddy?"

"I told my dad I was, but I don't- I don't know." Steve lifted his head, but flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut, before pressing a hand to his temple. "It really hurts, Soda."

"You just can't take noise right now. Give it a little longer."

"No. I mean- I wasn't talking about my head."

Soda rubbed Steve's shoulder, as he heard the voices of both of his brothers. "You want to go in my room and talk?"

Steve nodded, the words he'd spoken the night before, as he clung to his dad, coming back to break down the denial he'd attempted to build.

* * *

Grace opened the door to the church, finding the sanctuary empty. "God, should I even be doing this?"

She wandered across the building, passing the stained glass windows, before she found the door to the office was open. She looked in and saw Samuel. "I'm here, but I don't know about this. I mean, why would he want to talk to me?"

Before Samuel could reply, Nicholas was right behind Grace. He looked inside the office, meeting his friend's eyes, before speaking. "Because we might be able to help each other." He turned to the woman he had first met on his doorstep, the messenger of news he should've found hard to bear. "My son still has a lot of pain because of what Clara did to him, and he has even more because of her death."

Grace found herself taking a step back. "I'm so sorry. I still don't even know-"

Samuel got to his feet, going to stand in front of Grace, before putting a hand on her arm. "You don't have to apologize. Just listen. I think it'll help you."

Nicholas spoke next. "He's right. Don't apologize. You don't know because you couldn't have. Let's just sit down and talk."

* * *

Steve sat on the floor, his back against the side of Soda's bed. "I shouldn't have said that to him. I know that's not why he wouldn't tell me what she did."

Soda sat beside Steve, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. "I bet it's just like he said. You have enough bad memories. Your dad wants to protect you when he can. It must be bad if he just doesn't want it in your head."

"Yeah. I know. But it was like I really wanted to know, so I said that about him thinking I'd hurt myself the same way to see if he'd give up and tell me."

"Why do you want to know how she died?"

"I just want to know what happened. I mean, I don't want to care because-" Steve stopped, feeling the remaining dull ache in his head and the sting of tears. "Because she was a monster. But I was still just a kid and hearing she died, that was hard for me. I know I should be able to by now, but I can't get past feeling like it's my fault."

Soda lifted his head, tilting it sideways, as he looked at Steve. "That's why you want to know."

"Huh? What is?"

"You blame yourself. You think you made it happen. So you need to know what you did."

Steve looked down at his lap. "But I didn't mean for her to hurt herself. I wanted her to leave but-"

"Stevie, stop it. _I'm _not blaming you. You know that."

Steve nodded. "Sorry. I know you're not. I just keeping thinking stuff like that. I said a lot of things to my dad last night too after I couldn't sleep."

"It's not your fault she died, buddy. No matter how it happened. That's not your fault any more than the abuse was."

"I've always known it was crazy for me to feel guilty, and it doesn't make sense cause I was a kid." Steve felt another sting of tears. "I mean, it's not like those dreams I've had are how it happened. I wasn't even there when she died. I didn't do it."

"It's not crazy. You didn't know what to think, man. Believe me, I got my own feelings lately that don't make a hell of a lot of sense."

"I hated what she did, Soda. But she didn't have to die." Steve heard his voice tremble, as it got louder. "I wanted her to go away or even just decide to give a damn what she was doing to me and stop! But I didn't want her to kill herself!"

"I know, buddy." Soda wrapped Steve in a hug, his arms holding him. "I know you didn't."

"I wish I could feel like she deserved to die, but I can't! I can't wish the hell of wanting to on anyone either. Not after what I've been through!"

Soda stayed silent, just keeping his arms around Steve.

"But it hurts, Soda." Steve's voice got softer, quieter, as he laid his head on Soda's shoulder and held onto the anchor that was his best friend. "It hurts that I can't ever get away from this. Not in my head. Not even in a church. I asked God to make it not hurt as much, but I don't know how he can do that."

* * *

Grace held both hands over her mouth that had opened in shock. She stared at Nicholas, the genuine words rolling off her tongue. "I'm so sorry that happened to him. I was just trying to help her, but if I'd known, I never would've... But those things she said. It's no wonder."

Nicholas shook his head. "You couldn't have known. It was going on under my roof, and I had no idea until that night."

Samuel reached for a Kleenex and handed it to Grace, having noticed the beginning of tears in her eyes. "This is what I meant when I said it wasn't mine to tell. You didn't know because Clara wouldn't tell you something like that."

Grace took the tissue, dabbing at her eyes, as she remembered Clara's abrupt arrival and her tears, accompanied by a vague explanation. "She told me you guys had an argument and that you overreacted, but she wouldn't say how you thought she hurt Steve."

Nicholas closed his eyes, the night he'd told Clara to get out still fresh in his mind. "She tried to tell me she was in Steve's room because he had a bad dream. But I saw it. I heard it. I did a lot wrong. I made mistakes, but that moment... I know I did the right thing to protect him."

Grace nodded. "You did! Anyone who wouldn't isn't fit to even know a child. She went on that night talking about how Steve reminded her of her son, Christopher. But when I would ask what happened with either of them, she kept saying she would never do a thing like that."

Nicholas let out a breath, remembering Clara's story about Nathan and Christopher. "She told me her father abused Christopher, so her husband took him from her, but I bet she abused him too. Her own son."

Grace recalled more of Clara's words, speaking carefully from memory. "She said she was a good mother and that Nathan shouldn't have taken him away from her. That she only showed love, but then said Christopher wasn't safe. But she blamed her father. She said it was his fault she didn't have him anymore."

Samuel watched his sister-in-law and his friend, seeing a pattern of connections forming.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Only love? She didn't know the meaning of the word. Steve has told me she would tell him he reminded her of Christopher. Like that was supposed to be a good thing. Like she could be some sort of mother to him. She did what she could to make it look like that to me."

Grace shuddered. "That's terrible. It's all terrible. Nathan did the right thing in leaving. But it's like Clara thought _she_ was the victim."

Nicholas glanced at Samuel, before turning back to Grace. "So she bled to death? That's what you found?"

Grace nodded, flinching at the memory, as she still held the tissue in her hand. "Yes. She slit open both arms. I found her and the knife covered in blood. I tried. I called 911. But it was too late. Until now, I didn't know why."

Samuel chimed in. "That's one reason I wanted you two to talk. I know it was hard for you, especially because she hardly told you anything."

Nicholas thought of his talk with Steve the night before. "I told my son about you and why he recognized you. But when he asked what happened to Clara, I didn't tell him that part. Even though he wasn't there, I feel like just knowing would put that image in his mind. And he has such a hard time feeling guilty about her suicide, on top of trying to deal with the abuse. I'm afraid that would be worse if he knew she did something violent."

Samuel looked between Grace and Nicholas, as an idea was coming to him. He met his friend's eyes. "Or maybe it would help if he heard it from Grace."


	35. Chapter 35

A/N Oh dear, I don't even know what to say about this chapter, except it went places I didn't expect. These characters are doing, feeling, and saying things I only had an inkling of prior to it. Some of it at a point that I was hesitant to go with it, but there's no way I could change it for them. But, that's part of the magic :) I hope you guys enjoy. I was nothing short of immersed into many parts of this chapter!

_Samuel gulped down the last of the contents of the glass, a calmness coming over him, despite the earthly absence of Matthew. He felt his heart beat suddenly quicken, his eyelids barely hanging open. "God, I miss him. I need him with me."_

_ Samuel's grip on the empty glass loosened, going slack, as he let his eyes close. God, I don't care what happens anymore, he thought. Nothing matters without my little boy._

* * *

Soda remained at Steve's side, though he could see his friend was calmer. "You feeling a little better? I think you needed that."

Steve shook his head. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

Steve looked away from Soda, staring at the white of the wall in front of him, its blankness making it a mirror to him. He didn't blink, didn't move at all, his mind hazy with the urge to break the cycle of existence.

"Steve, come on. Keep talking to me."

"Haven't I put you through enough hell?"

Soda reached for Steve's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "You haven't put me through anything, man."

Steve kept his eyes on the wall, the emptiness threatening to swallow him. "I tried to kill myself. What do you call that?"

Soda got right in front of Steve, his hand not leaving his shoulder, as he met his friend's gaze, an expression of sincerity and seriousness on his face. "_You _going through hell. That's what I call it."

Steve blinked, unable to stop his eyes from meeting Soda's. "I'm trying not to."

"Trying not to what?"

"Trying not to hurt myself again. I know you're scared I will. My dad is too."

"It's kind of hard not to be, buddy."

"I know. Cause I am too."

"You couldn't be alone right now, could you?"

Steve shook his head, his gaze drifting away from Soda. "No."

"I know it ain't good for you to sit here like this when you're feeling bad. You've told me that."

"But I just don't feel like doing anything."

Soda leaned back against the wall across from Steve. "What do I have to talk about?"

Steve shrugged. "Anything you want."

"Do you know pool tables look real funny when you're drunk?"

"Uh. Okay."

"Yeah. So do lights, man! And don't mention it to Darry, but I could've swore I saw him break a sweat last night when you two were arm wrestling!"

Steve grinned. "Yeah, right."

Soda sat up straighter, holding his chin in thought. "You know what I'm going to do one day?"

"I'm afraid to guess."

"I'm going to go to church with you and bring my birth certificate."

"Why?"

"So they will all see God really made a Sodapop."

"Yeah. But God didn't name you. Your mom and dad did."

"But damn, it's not like they got the idea from anywhere down here. It had to come from up there."

Steve chuckled at the certainty in Soda's voice. "How do you know that?"

"Have you ever met any other Sodapop's on the planet?"

"Nope."

"So that means my name must come from up there in Heaven. You know, like some of those funny names in the Bible. I mean, who names a kid Moses?"

"You're something else, buddy."

Soda smiled at his friend, breathing an internal sigh of relief. "Do me a favor?"

"Okay?"

"Let me know when you figure out what."

* * *

Nicholas paced the church, his feet taking their steps in front of the altar that had so often been his place of prayer. Samuel had walked Grace out to her car, leaving him to this thoughts regarding the fact that he wouldn't soon forget the parallels that could be drawn between Grace's experience and his own. Yet, Samuel's suggestion struck a chord of apprehension inside Nicholas because he knew everything was different for Steve.

Samuel came back inside the church and sat down on the altar, seeing Nicholas still steadily moving back and forth. "Do you see why I thought it would be good for you to talk to her?"

"Yeah. I do." Nicholas paused, his feet no longer moving, as he pushed a hand through his hair. "And I think it was good for both of us. But Steve... I don't know. I just don't know. He asked me what happened to Clara, and he said he needed to know. That bothered me. But so did a lot of things he said last night. I don't think I knew the guilt was this bad."

"It's up to you, but I wonder if Grace could help with that because she was there, and she saw exactly what happened."

"But he already has this idea that it's his fault. I'm afraid of it getting a greater hold. Clara put so much blame on him. She confused him in a way that seems impossible to fix. He told me he doesn't believe the abuse was his fault anymore, but somehow, he feels like he made her die."

* * *

_ Samuel could no longer taste the bitterness of the alcohol or the sweetness of the liquid he'd mixed with it. He couldn't feel his heart slow down, then speed up, his body caught in a cycle of a much needed rest from the despair of grief and the natural fight to survive._

_ Samuel didn't feel Vivian's hands on his face or hear her alarmed voice, as she spoke to him, getting no response. He didn't hear her panicked prayer, her plea for him to keep breathing, or her call for help. He only heard the beckoning of the blackness that pulled him in, only felt his being give in to the exhaustion he created in attempting to escape guilt that left a hole in his life where his son should've been._

* * *

Samuel leaned forward, his eyes on the little patch of sunlight that came through the church's stained glass windows. "This might sound crazy."

Nicholas sighed, taking a seat beside Samuel. "Whatever you're thinking, it can't be crazier than the fact that I met you, and you're related to Grace. Or that she's the pastor's wife. There has to be some reason we all found each other."

Samuel let his thoughts go back to the past, to the sequence of events that led to his inconsolable grief. "What would you tell me if I said I made Matthew die?"

Nicholas stared at Samuel, his mouth open with a response caught somewhere between speechlessness and outright denial of his friend's statement. "What?"

"And I have another question for you. Did you make Clara abuse Steve?"

Nicholas' eyes narrowed, as he sat up straighter. "Of course not! I never would've- You already know I could have killed her myself for what she did!"

Samuel put a hand on Nicholas' shoulder, an effort to calm what he knew he had stirred. "But that's how guilt talks to you, isn't it? Even Steve's when he didn't do anything wrong at all. I walked away, and Matthew drowned. You brought Clara into your house, and Steve was abused. She's the only one at fault. He could never be, but in his mind, she abused him, and then she died."

Nicholas thought back to what he'd just learned from Grace, the moments that had taken place between Clara leaving their house and the news of her death. "That's all he has, isn't it? That's all he can see."

* * *

_Samuel felt his body begin to wake up, though the want to live had worn thin in the oblivious absence of pain. He knew there was a hand holding his, and that was the only pleasant physical sensation. He tried to keep his eyes closed, to escape back into the blackness, but they opened anyway._

_ Samuel focused on the person next to him. It was Vivian, the woman whose hand he didn't feel fit to hold, the mother of his child. He heard her speak to him, the words full of emotion, as he saw he was in a hospital room._

_ Samuel felt Vivian squeeze his undeserving hand, as she spoke once more, his barely conscious mind comprehending the words this time. "You're okay. You're going to be fine."_

_ Samuel looked into his wife's eyes, seeing love, even though he knew she had been experiencing her own grief. He saw her there beside him, her faithfulness and affection the antithesis to the guilt that made him care not if a bitter, but sweet, liquid poison made him so numb, his body couldn't keep functioning._

_ Vivian's voice spoke over the thoughts in Samuel's mind, the sound soothing, even thought he longed to close his eyes once more. "I need you, and I love you so much. I'm going to help you through this."_

_ Samuel nodded, his eyes looking into Vivian's teary ones, knowing how much they both had cried since Matthew's death. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."_

_ "I know."_

_ "I should've stopped, but it made me not feel anything."_

_ Vivian rubbed Samuel's arm. "Shh. It's okay. I know you miss him. I do too. Just rest now."_

* * *

Nicholas could see Steve outside, his son's hair still damp from the shower he'd taken that night. He had a quilt wrapped around himself, one Nicholas remembered had belonged to Rose. Though he was no longer a little boy, when he looked at Steve, he still saw the innocence of a child, his child.

Nicholas recalled one of the recent dreams his son had told him about, a nightmare that illustrated the hold Clara's voice and actions still had on him. It was this trauma and fear induced series of images created during slumber that became a foreshadowing to Steve's attempt to take his own life. Nicholas knew he'd never be able to think about how his child, his little boy, had given up and tried to die without a piece of his own soul hurting. Even though Steve had, thankfully, lived, his child had hurt himself in a way that could have resulted in death because he was living with the paradoxical guilt and shame brought on by sexual abuse that had scarred his innocence. Steve was still so much like that young boy, trying to make sense of the unthinkable and only arriving at conclusions that caused even more pain.

Nicholas, upon hearing Samuel's explanation for his questions that showed the nature of guilt, had been unable to keep from remembering the nightmare Steve had the night before his suicide attempt. In that dream, Steve had pushed Clara away, trying to stop the abuse, and she had fallen, then died. Nicholas also couldn't shake from his mind the thought of his own silence on the subject of Clara and her abuse in between the night she left and the news that she had died. He believed Samuel was right. Steve had his cause and effect, a twisted simplicity making him feel the need to question the truth of his complete and utter innocence in the death of another human being. It didn't even matter that said human being had been the kind of person Nicholas didn't believe belonged on this earth, one that deserved every ounce of pain she experienced in death and beyond.

* * *

Steve read the Bible verse that was embroidered into his mom's green and yellow patterned quilt: "Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10."

He felt what he knew must be Nicholas' presence next to him, realizing his dad would check on him. Steve pulled the quilt up around his shoulders, making the violet letters of scripture rest right over his heart. "I lied to you, Dad."

Nicholas touched the quilt, his hand running over the squares that were sewn together in colored harmony. "What do you mean?"

"I said I was over it. I'm not over it."

Nicholas squeezed Steve's arm, the material of the quilt soft against the skin of his hand. "It's okay, Son. I knew that. Where'd you find this?"

Steve looked down at the pattern of squares that made up the scripture versed quilt. "Hall closet. It was behind some stuff."

Nicholas nodded. "You should hang onto it. Keep it in your room."

"Yeah. I think I had a migraine today. I remember having headaches like that when I was a kid, but I didn't know how to explain it. I had them at night after-" Steve scooted closer to Nicholas, pressing his face into his shoulder, the quilt still wrapped around him.

"I remember you having headaches." Nicholas also remembered the way he'd dismissed them, not understanding the reason, and perhaps not being able to face it. "When was it, Son? After what?"

"After I heard Clara was dead."

Nicholas wrapped one arm around Steve, his chin touching his son's damp hair. "Please tell me what I can do or say."

Steve's shoulders shrugged, but his mouth uttered a soft reply that his dad barely heard. "Just don't ever leave me."

Nicholas remembered Steve's words to him just days before, the reassurance of love and the confirmation that he knew his dad was right beside him, no matter what. What's making you say this now, Son? he wondered. What are you thinking? "I would never leave you. I promise." Nicholas' eyes brushed over the Bible verse on the quilt. I know who you are, God, he prayed silently. I know you understand things I don't. I know you can do things I can't. I'm being still. I'm waiting for you.

* * *

Steve stood in the hallway outside his dad's bedroom door. He slid down to sit on the floor, his back pressed into the wall. "It doesn't make sense, God. I don't miss her. I hated her." He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, laying his head down. "She was only nice to confuse me. So how could I feel like this?"

Steve thought of the way he'd held onto his dad the night before and how he still wanted to, a fear enveloping him. He'd asked Nicholas to never leave him, a plea so simple, but of a much more complex origin than he had the words to explain. He didn't believe he had the courage or the strength to fully face the truth when he'd always thought he couldn't feel this way, that he shouldn't. He didn't want to care or feel anything in response to a loss that wasn't a loss at all, but only a relief.

* * *

Steve saw Evie's eyes looking at him, seeming to search his own. When she started coming toward him, he turned to his locker, focusing on the number combination: right three times, 10, left one time-

Evie's voice spoke over Steve's thoughts. "Hi. How are you?"

Steve turned the dial to 25, then to the right, stopping on 30. He didn't look at Evie, as the lock popped open. "I'm fine. I guess."

Evie nodded. "Me too, I think. I just want you to know I understand."

"You understand what?"

"Why you broke up with me."

"Oh." Steve met Evie's gaze. "I hope you know I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know. I hope you know I'll never stop caring about you. I meant what I said at the hospital."

"Thank you for always being there for me, Evie. Even when we weren't really great with each other, you still were, and I know that's not easy."

Evie gave Steve a small smile. "You're welcome. What you told me the other night is all true. It wasn't working anymore. I just didn't know how to face it." She reached out and squeezed his arm. "But I wouldn't change being with you for anything."

Steve watched Evie's hand quickly release him, before looking back up at her. "Me neither."

Evie started to back away. "I'll still be here if you need someone, Steve. Remember that. Even though we're not together, I still want to be your friend."

Steve nodded, a grin on his face. "I won't forget. Thanks for that. You're a great girl, Evie."

Evie smiled at Steve one more time, before she turned and walked away.

* * *

Laura scooted closer to the edge of her chair, putting her elbows in her lap. "It's normal to feel the way you are, Steve. I know we touched on this before when we discussed how what you experienced was also a form of emotional abuse. But after what you just told me about Grace, I understand how seeing her could trigger these emotions."

Steve shook his head at Laura's words, still just on the cusp of accepting them. "But I don't want her here. I feel bad that she- But it's not like she loved me or I loved her. I wanted her to go away."

Laura watched Steve, forming her words carefully. "It was hard for you when Clara died because you were confused by the way she treated you and because the circumstances made you have a sense of guilt. But you also experienced a loss."

"No, I didn't. She wasn't my mom."

"Of course not, but it's normal that you have these feelings because it's still a form of grief."

"But all she did was hurt me. How can I grieve when- And why? Why would I grieve someone like her?"

"Because you hoped she would stop, and you hoped she would care about you. You had questions that will never be answered now, and some of them are a result of her death."

"But I don't miss her. She was only ever nice to me or to my dad to get what she wanted. And I hated what she did. I didn't want her to touch me. Ever."

"Grief doesn't mean you miss her or that you loved her or that you liked anything she did. It just means there was a loss, and you had a reaction to it. You were a child, who wanted to know why, and you wanted to be loved. You never got an explanation or an apology. When she died, you lost the hope of being able to have some answers. And even though the relationship was obviously toxic, you lost the chance for a healthy one, the one you could've had without the abuse."

"Can grief make you feel guilty?"

Laura nodded. "It can, Steve. Guilt is also a common reaction when someone takes their own life, even in circumstances not in the context of sexual abuse. I believe you have the combination of guilt and shame that you do because of both factors."

"Could grief make me want to know how Clara died? My dad knows, and he won't tell me. I tried to get him to, and he wouldn't."

"The aftermath of a suicide can leave a lot of questions. It makes sense, with all the emotions you're coping with, that you'd want any kind of answers that you know are there."

"I think I want to know because I guess I care and because I feel guilty about it." Steve looked down at his feet, avoiding Laura's gaze. "Can grief make you scared too?"

* * *

Samuel turned on the ceiling fan in the living room, seeking relief from the memories that were making him feel on edge. The air circulate, touching his skin, and cooling his body that was beginning to sweat. He watched the blades of the fan turn, as they moved faster and faster. They began to blend into one another at the same time Samuel reached for the glass he'd made, letting the sweet mix of bitterness slide down his throat.

* * *

Nicholas was stepping out of the grocery store, his job finished for the day, when he saw Steve's car in the parking lot. His son had told him he wanted to go see Laura on his own today, insisting it was fine to go back to what their usual routine had been before he started struggling so much with the suicidal impulses.

Nicholas walked away from the store, his feet hitting the pavement of the parking lot, as he went toward Steve's car. He was almost to it when his son opened the driver's side door and started to get out, then paused. Nicholas stopped, standing behind the car, waiting. He could hear Steve mumbling, though he couldn't make out the words. He moved a little closer. "Steve?"

Steve had one foot out of the car, his hand on the door. He turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder and see Nicholas. "I don't know. I just wanted to see you."

Nicholas went to stand right beside Steve. "Okay. I'm about to go home. Did something happen?"

Steve let go of the car door and turned, so he was sitting with both feet on the ground. "I'm sorry. I should've just waited for you."

"It's fine, Son."

"Nothing happened. But I needed-" Steve stopped, covering his face with his hands. "I don't know what I need."

* * *

When Vivian came home, she didn't expect a bottle labeled "vodka" to be on their kitchen counter, next to a container of lemonade. She didn't expect to see a glass in her husband's hand that held the same contents as when he'd poisoned himself shortly after Matthew's death. She also didn't anticipate her reaction.

Samuel met Vivian's eyes, his mouth beginning to open in an explanation for the scene in front of her. "It's not that much, I swear. It's not like before. I-" Before he could finish his words, Vivian snatched the drink out of his hand and threw it into the sink. He flinched, as glass met metal, knowing it must be close to breaking.

Vivian watched the liquid go down the drain, drawing in deep breaths, before she turned back to the man she loved with all her heart. "You won't do this. Samuel, you're one of the wisest people I've ever known, so don't even try to tell me you thought this was okay."

Samuel stared at the bottle, knowing his history that had been brief, but dangerous. "I know it wasn't. I wasn't trying to do what I did before though. Please don't think that."

"You weren't trying to then either, but you still did." Vivian reached for the bottle, pouring out what remained of it. "You're taking a risk when you know it could've killed you last time."

Samuel hung his head, regret a pang in his heart, not wanting to cause his wife pain in a pursuit to numb his own. "I'm sorry, Vivian. You're right."

Vivian felt herself shaking, as she lowered herself down next to Samuel. She grabbed both of his hands, squeezing them until she was sure her knuckles would turn white. "I know you've had a hard time lately. But don't you dare touch another drop of that stuff. You're not going to make me have to bury you too."

Samuel felt his wife's grip on his hands loosen, as he nodded. He looked down, tears beginning to fall from his eyes.

Vivian leaned forward and kissed Samuel on the cheek, ignoring the smell on his breath. She lingered there, whispering in his ear. "I got upset because I love you, honey. But I forgive you."

Samuel rested his head against Vivian's, her hair brushing against his face. "I just didn't want to feel anything for a little while." His eyes drifted up. "Please forgive me, God. I know that's not what you want for me."

"Shh. It's okay to fall. He understands, baby. But please get back up."

* * *

Steve fell into step beside Soda, unable to stop his head from turning back to look at his house.

Soda slowed down, his feet nearly pausing on the sidewalk. "What are you looking at, man?"

Steve still looked at his house. He turned all the way around to face it, not appreciating the distance. He moved slowly backward, hesitating.

"Last time I walked like that, you told me I was going to fall on my ass, and you'd laugh at me."

Steve pulled his gaze away from his home and turned to face forward. "I don't know. Just looking, I guess."

"We could've stayed at your house, you know."

Steve nodded, resuming his pace next to Soda. He lifted a hand, beginning to bite his thumbnail.

"You nervous or something?"

"Or something."

"Hey, you want to go find TwoBit?"

Steve shrugged. "Okay." He, almost imperceptibly, turned his head again, the physicality of separation making him cringe inside.

* * *

Samuel's fingers glided over the piano keys, each note unique, the sounds combining to play a melody in his ears. He didn't follow the sheet of music that was on the stand above the keys, but simply followed his heart's lead in creating a song of praise.

Samuel closed his eyes, focusing only on the ivory of the piano keys and the whispering presence of the Lord. He opened his mouth, uttering a tune of thanks toward Heaven, sending the God he knew a hallelujah, even in the midst of guilt and a perceived failure.

* * *

Steve raised an eyebrow at his buddy. "TwoBit, I swear I'm about to pour that beer on your head if you don't cut it out."

TwoBit took one last swig of the beer, before tossing the empty can into a nearby trash bin. "Can't now. None left. But damn. Someone's touchy today."

Steve scowled. "I'm not touchy. I'm just not in the mood for lame jokes."

TwoBit crossed his arms over his chest. "Your face is going to get stuck like that."

Soda eyed Steve's expression, then looked at TwoBit. "I'd shut up if I were you, man."

Steve sighed, biting his lip. "Sorry, TwoBit. It ain't you, it's me."

TwoBit grinned, his hand on his chest in mock offense. "Are you breaking up with me, Steve?"

Soda's eyes widened, as he saw Steve tense and suck in a breath. "That might not be the best thing to say right now."

Steve shook his head, waving off the concern. "It's fine. He's just being himself. I broke up with Evie the other day, TwoBit."

TwoBit's face dropped. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Steve shrugged, managing a small smile. "It's all right. You're always putting your foot in your mouth. I'm used to it by now.

* * *

Samuel's eyes opened, looking around the sanctuary. His fingers continued to glide over the piano keys. He heard the soft sounds of the notes, as his movements slowed down, the music taking on a more hesitant pace.

He played steadily for only a few more moments, before he held still. He engaged with the silence, his fingers on the piano keys, but no longer creating the sounds. He looked down at the black and white keys, the quietness begging him to pray. He closed the piano's lid, before sliding off the bench and onto his knees.

Samuel closed his eyes again, his voice soft in a plea for help, for freedom from the regret over today's choices, and for guidance in the lives of the friends he couldn't forget any more than he could forget Matthew. He didn't even open his eyes to look when he felt Vivian join the peace of God's presence, wrapping her hand gently around his folded ones.

Samuel prayed, his heart open before the God of the universe. His soul was awash with an empathy that stirred his emotions, making him desire to storm the gates of Heaven, confident that the Lord he knew was listening and had the power to act in both his internal chaos and the stillness that surrounded him in the church with his wife by his side.

* * *

Nicholas saw Soda outside waving to Steve, as he went in the direction of his house. He looked out at his son, who was coming up the front porch steps, before going out into the evening himself.

Steve stopped in the middle of the porch, face to face with his dad. He stared at him, frozen in the fear of a loss that hadn't occurred.

Nicholas moved closer to Steve, the door closing behind him, as he touched his shoulder. "You okay?"

Steve tried, but failed to speak, unable to shake the uneasiness from his thoughts. He swallowed, a weak hope that the growing worry would suddenly disappear.

Nicholas looked at Steve's expression, at his eyes, believing he knew what was happening in his son's head. "Look around. Tell me what you see."

Steve didn't move his eyes from Nicholas' face, blinking faster, as if he thought he could prevent any tears that may spring up. "I see you. I see you, and I don't want you to go away. I have to tell you that because it's making me feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Go away? Why would I go away?" Nicholas waited a moment, leaving his questions to fill the silence. He saw Steve's gaze drift downward. "Why don't we go inside, Son?"

Steve nodded, before following Nicholas into the house. He took in a deep breath, unsure exactly what to say, as he sat on the couch next to his dad. He briefly considered dismissing the subject, ending the conversation that was the type of talk they had so often lately.

Nicholas didn't wait for Steve to collect his thoughts. "What do you mean you don't want me to go away? That's a lot like what you said last night too. I'm not going away or leaving you, Son."

Steve, unable to dull the ache that made him want to hold onto his dad, wrapped his arms around Nicholas. He held on tight, wanting somehow to believe the embrace could keep him on this Earth.

Nicholas wound his arms around Steve, noticing that his son clung to him as tightly as he had two nights ago. "I'm not going anywhere. Where's this coming from?"

Steve's voice was muffled, as he didn't let go of his dad. "I'm afraid you'll die."

Nicholas closed his eyes, stroking the back of Steve's head. "Oh, Son. Please don't worry."

"I tried, but I can't help it. It's like after you told me about Grace, and we talked about Clara dying, it made me think of losing you. I don't miss her. I hated her but-" Steve broke off, his breathing growing more rapid.

Nicholas pushed Steve back, rubbing his shoulders. "It's okay. Just breathe for a minute. I don't want you to panic."

Steve drew in a few slow breaths, gathering the resolve he had to explain what he'd been thinking. "After you told me about Grace, but you wouldn't tell me how Clara died, I got upset."

Nicholas nodded. "I know."

"And I wanted you to leave me alone, but I felt so sorry about that later because what if I push you away and-" Steve stopped, the lump in his throat making him need to pause.

Nicholas put his hands on either side of Steve's face. "And what, Son?"

Steve spoke over the emotion that was making tears form in his eyes, his voice that of someone fearing their own words. "I pushed Clara away. I told her to leave me alone. I told her to go away. Then, she died."

Nicholas told himself to relax, resisting the urge to remind Steve he wasn't at fault, as he knew he needed to just listen to his son's sequence of thought.

Steve's voice grew smaller, as if his fear were a dark confession. "What if I do the same thing to you?"


	36. Chapter 36

A/N Oh my goodness! I've never been more stuck than I was in the middle of this chapter! I hope someone enjoys it because wow, I thought I'd never figure it out! I know, writing this one, it's had a feel to it that's different than the others. At least the atmosphere feels different to me anyway, and I'm still trying to understand it :)

Grace held a blue vase in her hands, filling it with water, before she set the marigolds in it, one by one. She looked at the flowers that were colored the deceiving mixture of gold and the sun, knowing where they belonged. She walked to the den, the former guest bedroom, the need to redecorate renewed after learning the whole truth about the person who had died in this very room.

Grace went toward that beautiful textured crystal vase that was tinted a mysterious purple and picked it up. She eyed the pure white daisies she'd last put there, before setting the blue vase of marigolds down by the window. She reached out and touched the purple velvet curtains, the softness brushing against her fingers. Setting the crystal vase to the side, she reached up and loosened the rod, then slid the curtains off of it.

Grace folded them up, her eyes drawn to the window and the marigolds. The night brought no sun rays inside to nurture the flowers. They were left until morning with only the healing water of the blue vase and the not-so-mysterious truth of what had taken place in this den years before they bloomed.

* * *

Hours after Steve asked it, the question still pricked at Nicholas' heart. He'd been frozen in that moment, at a loss for how to heal this fear.

_Nicholas slid his hands from Steve's face down to his shoulders. "I need you to look at me, Son. Please. Look right into my eyes."_

_ Steve's eyes lifted up, meeting his dad's gaze. "I know it's crazy, Dad. I do. But it's what I've been thinking because I feel bad, and I still think it's sad she died. I can't help it. But if anything ever happened to you-"_

Nicholas hadn't let Steve finish that thought, as if he believed he could stop the fear and the guilt that created it with an interruption. He wanted to block the path that Steve's imagination was taking, redirecting his son to the truth he knew, but couldn't feel because of the shame that still wrapped its tentacles around his heart.

_Nicholas spoke again, his voice soft, but insistent. "Steve, listen to me. You have to listen to me. Clara didn't die because of anything you said or anything you did. You were a little boy, and you had every right to tell her to go away and to leave you alone. You didn't cause her death. She did. She chose to hurt herself._

Nicholas had stared at Steve then, watching him, waiting for a response. When the silence carried on, he'd decided to say more, his son's quietness scaring him.

_Nicholas rubbed the back of Steve's head. "And you have to know I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing is going to happen to me because of what you say or if you get upset with me, Son."_

_ Steve stayed still, his expression growing more troubled, his mind on the words Nicholas had just spoken about Clara. "But I did it too, Dad. I hurt myself too."_

_ "It's not the same, Son."_

_ "I couldn't stand it if I lost you. I need you."_

_ Nicholas brought Steve close to hug him, having found the physical affection and presence provided some measure of reassurance. "You're not losing me. I need you too. I love you."_

As he'd done so often lately, Nicholas watched Steve sleep, his son's question echoing in his mind, the moments just after it still so palpable, he wondered if he could look up and see the words spelled out in the air above them. He couldn't be certain that anything he'd said had soothed Steve's fear, knowing the depth of guilt that must exist for him to even think about losing his dad as a consequence of his own words or actions.

Nicholas recalled how Steve had drawn a parallel between Clara's choices and his suicide attempt, his own response that it wasn't the same coming back to him, bringing the words he'd left unspoken with it: She made herself hurt because of what she was. She deserved that pain for abusing my son and possibly her own little boy. If she was alive, she would've hurt another child.

Nicholas stared at Steve, his little boy, the son he treasured, as he whispered to himself, "It's not the same at all. It could never be the same."

* * *

Samuel cleared the table a group of customers had just vacated, stacking the plates and cups one on top of another. He glanced at the clock, taking note of the time, just as the door of the restaurant opened.

Nicholas stepped inside, easily finding Samuel. "Hey. You got a minute?"

Samuel nodded. "I'm about to anyway." He carried the bin that held the dishes into the kitchen, before gesturing for his friend to follow him into a break room. "So what brings you by?"

Nicholas fell into a chair in the corner of the room. "You can tell me if I shouldn't tell you any more of what's been going on. I keep feeling like I'm burdening you with it."

Samuel sat down across from Nicholas. "You came here to say that?"

Nicholas shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. "No. Actually, I want to tell you I think you might be right."

* * *

Steve opened the door of his car, tossing his backpack inside. "Hey! That's why we call you 'Two-Bit!' You always got something to say!"

TwoBit leaned against Steve's car, shaking his head. "Yeah, but nobody ever wants to listen to me."

"You know what might help?"

TwoBit shrugged.

Steve sighed, keeping his expression serious, as he looked at his friend. "If you did something about your face."

TwoBit laughed. "Damn. You just threw my two bits right back at me!"

Steve chuckled, as he got into his car, starting it up. "I got to go, man. I'll see you later."

* * *

Nicholas lined the boxes of cereal up on the shelf, his thoughts going in circles. He knew if he gave Steve the rest of the story, he could never take it back. If the truth did more harm than good, he couldn't undo the potential damage. Yet, he was beginning to see how that truth could be a solution, even part of the reason paths had crossed.

Nicholas turned to the cart next to him, picking up the boxes of oatmeal and putting them on the shelf below the cereal. He couldn't go back in time, couldn't stop Clara from abusing Steve. He couldn't make his son forget what he'd suffered at her hands or even make his past self a better support in the aftermath.

Nicholas went to the other side of the aisle, lining boxes of pancake mix up side-by-side. He couldn't change the past or erase it. He couldn't make Steve's fear, guilt, or shame have no basis for existence when they had burrowed so deep inside him. He couldn't even fully rid himself of his own guilt, though he'd come a long way in granting mercy and grace in place of hatred and condemnation.

Nicholas reached for the cart, rolling it along behind him, as he left the aisle. He remained uncertain, but for all the things he couldn't do to help Steve heal, he knew he could give his son a more complete story and a chance to hear another perspective.

* * *

Steve's mind searched, his hands on the steering wheel, but his musings wandering to places much darker than the road in front of him. He drove past the Dairy Queen and the local drug store. An image of the shelf he'd stood in front of just a couple of weeks earlier flashed across his memory, making him press on the brake, slowing down in front of a driveway he knew he shouldn't enter. The car behind him honked at the unwelcome decrease in speed, then rushed on past him.

Steve looked away from the place where he'd only seen options in the form of syrups and capsules, pushing back the startlingly clear image of that shelf, before speeding up and making a U-turn to head in the direction of the DX.

* * *

Soda looked in the garage, just as Steve was tightening the last of the lug nuts on a tire. "I'll see you later, buddy. Darry's working late again tonight. But I'm going to start heading home."

Steve tossed the torque wrench into the toolbox, hearing a clang, as it landed. "Okay. I'll see you in the morning, if not tonight." He got to his feet and picked up a rag to wipe some of the grease off his hands. "Hey, Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"You still been talking to God for me?"

"Of course I have."

Steve nodded, his eyes on the rag in his hands. "Keep doing it. I need it."

* * *

Nicholas knocked on Steve's door, pushing it open, just as his son slipped a white t-shirt over his head, leaving his DX clothes in a bundle on the floor.

Steve looked at Nicholas, the clarity of the memory of the night before making it difficult to say what he was thinking. "Don't worry about me tonight, Dad." His gaze drifted down to his bare feet, as he sat down on the bed. "I think you got through to me. I think I'm okay now."

The expression on Steve's face and his uncertain voice made Nicholas fully enter the room and settle next to his son. "Are you just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear, Son?"

Steve sighed, before looking back up at Nicholas. "No. I'm saying it because it's what I want to believe."

* * *

Steve huddled under the covers of his bed, Rose's quilt folded in the corner, leaving the violet letters of the Bible verse visible. The light from his lamp shone on the paper, casting his pencil's shadow over the lines on which he was writing. He formed the short sentences of some things he was simply still trying to let sink into his heart:

_She isn't part of me, and I'm not damaged._

_I'm not going to push my dad away or lose him._

_Nothing I did caused her to die._

_It's okay that I care what happened and okay to grieve._

Then, he added some things he could certainly believe:

_God hears me and listens. He cares._

_I can ask for help._

_I don't have to act on these thoughts._

_I can stay safe, even when I am hurting._

Steve let the paper slide down onto the bed, the pencil going with it, as he looked up at the ceiling, knowing who resided above it. "What should I do, God? You didn't let me die. What if I try again?" He shook his head, a heavy breath escaping. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't say that. It just hurts. But you know that already."

Steve put the paper with its reminders and lists on the nightstand, then switched off the lamp. "I never wrote stuff down before, God. Not before I met Laura. Help me believe all of that. Help me feel it."

Steve saw Rose's quilt, as he lie down, and though he couldn't see the Bible verse in the dark, he remembered it, one last prayer falling from his lips. "I have to be still right now cause I don't know what I might do if I'm not. I know I'm just me, and you're God, even if I'm not sure what that means."

* * *

Steve picked up his car keys, his backpack slung over his shoulder, as he watched his dad's car pulling out of the driveway. Nicholas saw him through the window and waved, and he waved back, trying to force a grin, as he eyed the phone.

Steve gripped the strap of his backpack, then walked forward, setting the keys down, before picking up the phone receiver. He dialed the Curtis' number, holding his breath for a moment at the sound of Soda's voice on the line. "Hey, Soda. Sorry. I think- I think I'm going to stay home today, at least for the morning." Steve bit his lip, as Soda replied, saying he'd catch a ride with Darry. When his friend also asked what was wrong, he then continued the lie that was rolling easily off his tongue. "I got another one of those headaches, you know, like I had the other day. I'm going to go back to bed for a few hours."

Steve listened for another second, holding his breath again, as Soda told him to feel better, and he'd see him later. He hung up the phone, then lifted it once more to hear the tone, before dialing a second number and hearing the line ring, hoping for the answer he needed.

* * *

Grace let the silk of the blue curtains thread through her fingers, before she slid them onto the rod. She reached up and clicked one side into place, followed by the other, securing them over the window. She stepped back, seeing how the curtains became like the sky to the sunny marigolds, though the material was a shade much darker than the blue of creation displayed outside. She took one more look at the flowers, their golden petals not betraying their meaning, before turning to the sofa on the other side of the den.

Grace removed the pillows of white satin, setting them aside, before placing the new ones that were nearly the same color as the just hung curtains. She tucked the two pillows into the corners of the sofa, her eyes drawn to the shade of blue that seemed as if it could swallow her, and she'd never find her way out of its depths.

* * *

Laura came from down the hallway and was about to open the door that led to the waiting area, only for her receptionist to tell her she'd already sent her next client back to the office. She nodded at her, before going toward the door she'd left propped open.

Laura stepped into the office, her eyes immediately going to the client in the corner. He was leaning against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. She pushed the door closed, before going toward him. "Steve?"

Steve turned his head to look at Laura, his eyes flitting past the window with the open yellow curtains. "I didn't want to scare my dad or Sodapop or anyone. So I called you."

Laura nodded. "Okay."

"I'm supposed to be at school but..." Steve let his eyes blink slowly, keeping them closed, as he continued to speak. "I didn't know what else to do."

Laura crouched down beside Steve. "It's okay. In fact, if you need help, I'm glad you called and glad you came."

Steve stared down at the carpet, nodding slightly.

"So come sit down, and we'll talk. I want to hear what's going on, so I can help you through it."

Steve rose and followed Laura to their respective seats. As always, he discerned the car in her eyes that accompanied the lack of judgment. "I'm still not planning to, but I keep thinking about what if I tried again. It's scaring me because if something happens right now or if I feel any worse, I think-" He shoved his hands underneath his legs, fingers pressing into the rough cushion of the chair, as he swallowed. "I think I would do it."

"Do you mean you think about what if you tried to kill yourself again?"

Steve nodded, his bones nearly shaking beneath his skin. " But I mean, I don't want to do it. I don't want to be scared like that again or wake up in the hospital or hurt everyone again. And I know even more than before that I don't want to die."

"Steve, I want you to remember that you don't have to act on anything you're thinking about doing or you feel like you want to do. But I'm very concerned because of your history, so I need you to give a voice to your thoughts. Tell me exactly what you're thinking. You're expressing to me that you have no intention of following through, but I need to know what sort of 'if's' you're considering right now."

"Please believe me. I'm not-" Steve shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek and a realization dawning on him. "Please don't put me back in the hospital. I don't want to be in there."

Laura leaned forward in her chair, trying to meet Steve's gaze. "It's okay. That's not my intention, Steve. You came to me for help, to try to stay safe. That's all I want to do for you."

"Okay. I mean, I just get afraid I'll do it anyway. That it'll be like before, and I won't see another way. I wasn't planning to hurt myself then either, but I still got so bad. And if I did it again, I don't know if I'd survive."

"I know this is a question you've heard from me before, but it's one I need to ask. Is there any particular method you're considering using to harm yourself, and if so, do you have access to the means?"

"I guess I still have thoughts of overdosing again. But my dad has my medicine put away. I drove past the drug store yesterday and-" Steve stopped, fear telling him he was treading a dangerous line.

"And what? You can tell me."

"It's the same one where I went before. I still remember what's there, and I kind of stopped and stared at it. But I didn't go in or anything. I just went to work."

"I want you to know that's good, Steve. And it's important. You're having suicidal thoughts, yes, but you're at a point where you're thinking about what else you can do too. Even though you feel like harming yourself, you're not seeing it as the only option, and from what you've told me, I know you can see the potential consequences of it too."

"I've just been feeling this so much lately, and it reminds me of how I was the day I overdosed. I've hardly wanted to let go of my dad lately, and last night, I even thought about going to him to tell him not to blame himself if-" Steve stopped once more, afraid of finishing the path his musings had led him down.

"You don't have to worry about saying anything wrong, Steve. You know I'm here to help, and I can only do that if I know what's going on."

Steve's voice faltered, as a sensation of trembling mixed with the fear that made his stomach want to turn in on itself. "I know. I just don't want you to think I'm going to do it. I'm not planning to kill myself."

"I know that. I believe you. But I want to keep up our dialogue, so you don't start to act on your thoughts or start to plan."

Steve took a deep, steadying breath, another tear falling down his cheek. "I thought about telling him not to blame himself if I try again or if I die. I want him to remember I love him, even if I'm not here to tell him. I even thought about telling Sodapop to never forget he's my brother. I love him too, and nothing can change that, even if I don't make it. And Evie. I think we'd still be together right now if not for all of this I have hurting me. I'll always love her, no matter what happens to me."

Laura stared at Steve, gauging both his words and his demeanor, as she leaned closer to him. She clasped her hands together, her voice taking on a softness reserved for the most delicate of situations. "Steve, I believe you when you say you're not planning to hurt yourself, but I'm growing concerned that, despite the current lack of intention, you still believe that's what you'll do."

"Because I know I could. I did it once, didn't I? That's why you talk about my history, and why I have to see the doctor too. I can't trust myself, and it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault. You've been hurting, and your attempt to take your life wasn't about dying. You were in extreme emotional distress, and it was about finding a way out of that pain."

Steve wiped his eyes, even as new tears sprang up. "But how can I even still think about doing something like that again? My dad asked me if he failed me. But he didn't. The only one who failed me is me!"

"Steve, you haven't failed. It's okay to hurt and okay to struggle. That's part of working through everything that you experienced as a child. I feel like you've come a long way in being able to know that it wasn't your fault Clara chose to abuse you. But you're still taking on a lot of guilt for the pain that remains as a result of that trauma. It's not your fault it's there, and it's not your fault you can't make it go away. You're doing what you need by talking about it and trying to understand all of these feelings and thoughts you have. I know it doesn't always feel like it, but I see a lot of progress in you these past few months."

"But I'm the one who left school and bought the pills. I'm the one who sat in my car and took them. I'm the one who made myself sick and could've died. I hurt myself, and I hurt everyone in my life. They're scared because of me."

"Yes, you did buy the pills and take them, but everything you were feeling overwhelmed you. The flashbacks you experience and the nightmares have greatly affected you, and your perceptions were distorted. The people in your life are scared because they love you, but there's nothing you've told me that makes me believe they're anything but understanding and supportive."

Steve bowed his head, pressing the palm of his hand against it, as he took sharp breaths. "They've been better than I can even believe. Not just my dad and Soda and Evie, but everyone. Sometimes, I've even thought that made me feel worse."

"Why is that?"

"Cause they care about me, and I hurt them. I told Soda once that I wished him or my dad would just go ahead and yell at me. Like I thought that's what I deserve."

"That's not what you deserve, Steve. You deserve patience, care, and respect. That's also what you need to get through this, and I'm glad you have it. I'm glad you realize you have it. That kind of unconditional support makes it much less likely you'll attempt to take your life again."

Steve sighed, as the adrenaline rush of emotion ceased. "I know it makes me want to try my hardest not to do it again too."

* * *

Soda was stacking some styrofoam cups and plastic lids next to the drink dispensers when Steve came inside the DX. "Hey, man. Is your head feeling better?"

Steve punched in, Soda's question catching him momentarily off guard. "Huh? Oh! Yeah, it feels a lot better. I um, slept for a little longer, then went to school. I didn't really want to miss any more class."

Soda nodded, putting more straws next to the lids. "Good. I got kind of worried when you said you have another one of those headaches. It seemed pretty bad the other day."

Steve adjusted his cap, looking down at his hands, as he stood behind the counter. "Yeah. This one wasn't as bad."

"You know what they're from?"

"Yeah. Kind of." Steve avoided Soda's eyes, as his friend approached the counter. He focused on the cash register keys. "They're uh, just migraines. No big deal."

* * *

Samuel closed his eyes, the melody of "Amazing Grace" filling his ears. The record turned, making the lyrics join the tune:

_"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now, I see."_

Samuel lifted his hands, the need to worship holding them up, as he began to sing along:

_"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear and grace my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed."_

* * *

Nicholas let the back door close behind him, as he stepped back inside the house. He took off his jacket and hung it up. He heard the faint sound of a voice, then followed the direction of the sound, finding Steve in the hallway right outside his bedroom door. He could hear his son's quiet whisper, as he sat on his knees with Rose's Bible in his lap, the pages open to scripture. "Hey, Son. I didn't know you were home yet."

Steve held the Bible tighter, still whispering, his eyes running over the words in front of him.

Nicholas stepped closer to Steve and sat down next to him. He reached out to put his hand over his son's, then squeezed. "You're okay. Tell me about what you're reading."

Steve brushed shaking fingers over the page of divine verses, his other hand grasping Nicholas'. He spoke, his voice thick with the emotions that stirred inside him, telling him to create a plan that would be his way out this time. "Dad, this is what makes me feel like I want to die."

"I know, Son."

"I've just been sitting here trying to pray. I thought it'd help God hear me if I got the Bible too and if I read it a little."

Nicholas cradled Steve's head, pulling his son closer to rest against his shoulder. His gaze drifted to the Bible that was open to the book of Hebrews, one of Rose's underlined verses catching his eye: "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."


	37. Chapter 37

Steve attempted to shake the image from his mind, reminding himself it didn't have to become reality. He looked at Dr. Reynolds, a reply to his question forming. "I mean, yeah, I think talking to Laura helped." His gaze wandered to the paintings on the wall, as it always did. "She called you, didn't she?"

Dr. Reynolds nodded, jotting down beginning notes to go along with the ones he's written after speaking with Laura Avery. "She did. Steve, I know you've heard the questions I'm about to ask before, but I think it's critical that we revisit them."

The image vanished from Steve's mind, letting him focus on the doctor's voice and the atmosphere of the office. "Okay. I think."

"The fact that you have suicidal thoughts is only one indicator of risk to me. And, of course, it's a different context when you're not inpatient like you were when I first evaluated you. In light of the conversation I had with Ms. Avery, I would first like to talk about what else you may be feeling and the ways you're coping."

Steve met Dr. Reynolds' eyes for a short moment. "Are you going to make me have to stay here again?"

"I would only find that necessary if I determine you're an imminent risk to yourself, Steve. Inpatient care is meant for patients who need to be supervised around the clock and who may not be safe otherwise."

"Okay. I just really don't want to stay."

"I understand. But let's start with how you're feeling right now. Have you experienced the suicidal thoughts today?"

"I have, but I don't think it's as bad as the last few days have been."

"Have you been anxious or had trouble sleeping at all?"

"I've still been sleeping mostly okay, and I've been anxious, but there's kind of been a lot going on in my head. Especially the last few days."

Dr. Reynolds made a few notes, before looking back up at Steve. "What do you mean exactly? Has something been happening this week that's causing you particular stress?"

Steve sat back against the cushion of the couch, sighing. "You could say that. I kind of found out some stuff that has to do with my past, and it bothers me. Well, a lot of it bothered me already, but it's been worse."

"When you say your past, do you mean the sexual abuse that took place in your childhood?"

"Yeah. I mean that. Someone I know now knew the person that abused me, and it's all pretty weird."

"All right. I assume you've talked with Ms. Avery about this, if it's affecting how you've been feeling?"

"Yeah. I have. She helped me understand a little better."

"So what I'm hearing, between what she told me and what you're telling me, is you've been coping with something new involving your past and experienced an increase in the intensity of your suicidal thoughts?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that, but yeah, seems like it."

"Again, I know we've discussed this before, but can you tell me what helps you when you have those thoughts or feelings?"

"It helps if I do something, like play cards or go outside, or try to focus on anything. And I talk to Laura or to my dad or my best friend. Sometimes, I've written stuff down that I think I need to remember."

"Like what?"

"Just things that remind me I can get through feeling like that." The image flashed into Steve's head again, a marker of the morbid thoughts that still tended to occupy his mind. "I don't have to hurt myself."

Dr. Reynolds started a new section of notes, his mind processing Steve's responses. "Have you still been taking your medication consistently each day?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I still have some more questions, but so far, based on the discussion with your counselor and what you've told me, I think it would be beneficial to increase the medication dosage for the time being."

Steve's eyes drifted from the drawings on the wall to Dr. Reynolds, then to his lap. "Oh."

"I think it'll be helpful for you to have a little bit more support, especially while you're still trying work through issues and emotions related to the abuse you experienced."

* * *

Nicholas sat in a family waiting area, just around the corner from the room reserved as Dr. Reynolds' office. He saw Steve approaching him and got to his feet. "How'd it go, Son?"

Steve looked down at the small blue slip of paper in his hand, the psychiatrist's scribbled signature accompanying the newly written Elavil prescription. "Um, okay, I think." He handed the paper to Nicholas. "He changed the medicine a little bit."

Nicholas took the prescription from Steve and read it. "Higher dose?"

"Yeah." Steve shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. "He just thinks it'll help more that way."

Nicholas folded the prescription and tucked it into his back pocket. "I'll drop it off for you, before I head back to work. Do you know why he decided to up it now?"

"I think he just wants to make sure it keeps helping me sleep and stuff." Steve's gaze wandered away from his dad to a corner farther down the hall, the one whose path he knew led to the locked doors of the psychiatric unit. "It was a small dose before, so I guess it's not a big deal."

* * *

Soda sighed, as he stomped on a just-smoked cigarette, his eyes not focusing on anything he could see in the back area behind the DX station. He found himself looking up at the sky, Steve's request to keep praying for him on his mind. "God, you got to keep taking care of him. That's what you do, right? You've done it before."

Soda laid his head against the brick of the building, his gaze still drawn to the sky. He let his eyes close, moments passing with each breath of the fresh air. "I'm still scared. It'll never not be hard to see my best friend in pain."

He sat up straighter, then turned to glance around the building, before looking in the window that allowed him to see inside the break room of the DX. Certain he was alone, Soda bowed his head and clasped his hands together. His eyes closed tightly, as he continued the prayer. "I swear I'll pray for him everyday, God. Or do anything you want. If you'll fix everything. Please help him not hurt so much, and don't let him try to give up again. I know it still ain't magic, but could you heal him? I mean, you're God. Don't you do that too?"

* * *

Steve started to get in his car, then hesitated, looking over at Nicholas, who had already gotten behind the wheel of his own vehicle. He met his dad's eyes for hardly a fraction of a second, before turning away.

Nicholas rolled down his window. "You good, Son?"

Steve's mouth opened, a reply on the tip of his tongue. Yet, he couldn't find the words. He couldn't speak over the picture that came back into his mind unbidden, couldn't stop the idea from taunting him with a false promise.

Nicholas watched Steve, one hand on the steering wheel. "If you're worried about the medicine, I'm sure it'll be fine. He seems like the type of guy who wants to help."

"Yeah. I think he is. Sorry, Dad. I don't mean to keep you." Steve opened the driver's side door. "I should get back to school. I'll see you at home."

* * *

Soda chuckled, holding up the Queen of hearts he'd pulled from the deck of cards. "What do you mean this ain't the one you picked?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I _mean_ you ain't a magician, man."

Soda placed the card back in the deck and started shuffling. "Let me try again."

"All right. I'll humor you."

Soda finished the last shuffle and picked up a portion of the deck. He spread the cards out in his hands, keeping them face down, as he held them out to Steve. "Pick a card! Any card!"

Steve chose a card and turned it over, memorizing it, before tucking it back into its place.

Soda put all the cards back in the middle of the deck, then held it up, staring hard at it.

Steve laughed. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

Soda's eyes moved back and forth over the stack of cards.

"Your eye balls are going to fall out of your head if you keep doing that."

Soda smiled, shrugging. "That's okay. I did what I was wanting to do." He chose a card and held it up, the two of clubs facing him. "Is this your card?"

"I don't know. I can't see through it."

Soda looked from the card to Steve. "Aw, man, and here I thought you had x-ray vision.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. And you can walk through walls."

"No. But I _can_ make myself invisible."

"That's kind of a scary thought." Steve reached for the card that Soda had chosen and turned it over. His eyes grew wide. "Hey, Soda. Guess what?"

Noticing Steve's expression, Soda stared at him, his mouth dropping open. "What?"

Steve schooled his face, holding back his laughter at the wonder in Soda's voice, as he kept his tone one of awe. "It's still not my card."

* * *

Steve pulled back the covers on his bed, just as his dad came in the room with a pill and a glass of water.

Nicholas handed both to Steve. "Does Dr. Reynolds think it'll make you drowsy again?"

Steve nodded, swallowing the medicine and some water. "Yeah. Maybe a little more this time too. That's why he said to try taking it at night." He sat on the bed, holding the glass and looking down at the liquid. "Um, I kind of forgot to tell you he wants to see me back a little sooner."

"Okay. Because of the medicine? Or is he concerned about something else?"

"Kind of both, I guess."

Nicholas sat down beside Steve, resting a hand on his arm. "Son, is there something you don't want to tell me?"

Steve still stared at the water in the glass. "Yeah."

"You don't have to tell me, but I want you to know you always can."

"I know, Dad. I really do." Steve looked up at Nicholas. "But try not to worry, okay? I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, I promise."

Nicholas sighed. "All right. No promises on not worrying though." He thought of his next words, hesitating for a moment. "Are you still scared, Son?"

Steve let out a breath, relaxing slightly in response the different direction their conversation was taking, even if this also wasn't the most welcome subject. He set the water glass down on the nightstand, before turning to face Nicholas. "Maybe not as much. It helped me to tell you about that."

"Should I not have told you about Grace? You seem to be struggling more again since then."

"No. I'm glad you did, Dad. Well, not _glad, _but you know what I mean. Since I see her at church, that's something I needed to know. It really bugged me how familiar she looked when I didn't know why. It was even kind of creepy."

Nicholas weighed the question he had coming to his mind, uncertain about the path he was about to take. "Son, I've been thinking since we talked about Grace and about" He paused for a moment, his hand squeezing Steve's arm. "Clara's death."

Steve tense, his gaze going to his lap. "Yeah?"

"I've actually been wondering if you should know the rest of what happened."

"You mean how she died?"

"Not just that, but yes."

"But I thought it was so bad, you didn't want it in my head."

Nicholas couldn't hold back the sigh that again escaped his lips. "It is, and I don't. But I want to find a way to help you with all that guilt." He brought a hand up to stroke Steve's hair. "I wonder if it could help you to know what Grace told me. I talked to her the other day when you were at Soda's."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I think she's had a hard time too, partly because she didn't know why anything happened like it did."

"So you told her about what Clara did to me?"

"Yes." Nicholas gripped Steve's shoulder. "And it's okay, Son. I know Samuel wouldn't have wanted us to talk if I couldn't trust her too."

"It was Samuel's idea?"

"Yeah. I think he listened to both me and Grace and knew we should talk to each other. I wouldn't say it was a nice talk, but it was a good one. It wasn't in the same way, but Clara betrayed her too, and she has memories she'd rather forget."

"So you think I should talk to her too?"

"Only if you want to. But if you want know how Clara died, I think you need to hear all of what Grace told me, not just that part of it."

"Okay. I think. If she wants to anyway. It's so weird, Dad. Just months ago, not even Soda knew and now, I'm okay to talk to some lady who's practically a stranger."

"I know what you mean, but it's a good thing." And maybe it'll be better for you to hear it's not your fault from someone who saw Clara's death herself, Nicholas thought. "It could be good for you to listen to what she remembers too because she was there." Maybe it'll help you finally put an end to the guilt that's lived inside you since the day Grace showed up on our doorstep.

* * *

Steve shook his head, smiling from his place on the Curtis' porch swing. "You're out of your mind, man."

Soda shrugged, leaning against the railing with a grin on his face. "Aw, you know you wouldn't have me any other way."

"You got me there." Steve thought for a few moments, then stood up and pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He took one out and lit it, inhaling and exhaling, before speaking again. "Hey, Soda, you remember how my dad wouldn't tell me what happened to Clara? I mean, you know, what she did to herself?"

"Yeah."

Steve took another drag off the cigarette, inhaling and then pausing. He let out a breath of smoke. "He talked to Grace, and now, he thinks maybe I should too."

"He talked to her about Clara?"

Steve frowned. "No, man, they talked about the damn tea in China! Yes, they talked about Clara!"

Soda blinked, looking down at the porch. "Oh."

Steve sighed, flicking ashes from his cigarette. He rested a hand on Soda's shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm just frustrated. But I shouldn't take it out on you."

Soda kept his head bowed, his gaze not moving up. "So are you going to talk to her?"

"I'm not sure yet." Steve took one last puff of his cigarette, before putting it out and tossing it away. He turned back to Soda, his hand still on his shoulder. "Sodapop? Look at me."

Soda did as he was asked, biting his lower lip in hesitation.

"I didn't mean to yell at you, okay?"

Soda's eyes closed. "Okay."

"Hey, you don't usually take that kind of stuff so hard." Steve grinned. "You know how to handle it when I'm being a pain in the ass."

Soda managed a smile, a slight tremble in his voice. "Yeah, I guess I just- I don't know."

Steve squeezed Soda's shoulder, before letting go. "Why do I get the feeling this is not really about what I said?"

Soda took a step back. "Cause it ain't about that."

Steve reached for Soda's arm and held onto it. "No running this time, man. I know you're about to start bawlin' right now. Why?"

"Cause I couldn't do anything before either."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Nothing."

"What is it you won't tell me, buddy? I know there's been something."

"No. I can't, Stevie. Can we please just drop it?"

Steve released Soda's arm. "As long as you promise not to go bolting off the porch again."

"I won't." Soda sat down on the swing, then wiped at his eyes that were wet with the beginning of tears. "So why does your dad want you to talk to Grace? I thought he didn't want you to know what happened."

"I guess he thinks hearing it from her would be different, like it could help." Steve sat down on the swing beside Soda. "It's just so strange, man."

"What is?"

"That I even know her now. I mean, it's crazy, right? It doesn't even seem possible for that to happen."

* * *

_Grace parked her car next to the curb, double checking the address of the house. Finding it matched the one she'd written down, she stepped out of her vehicle. She listened to her feet tap the pavement, as she went up the walk, up the steps, then across the porch. She rapped her knuckles against the front door._

_ Grace waited only moments, before the door opened. She saw a man in front of her, taking a guess on who it must be. "Hello. Are you Nicholas Randle?"_

_ The man nodded. "Yes. Who are you?"_

_ Grace steeled herself, her memory replaying the images of the news she'd come to deliver. "I'm a friend of Clara's. I'm afraid I have some bad news."_

_ Nicholas shook his head, beginning to close the door. "She doesn't live here anymore."_

_ Grace took a small step forward, putting her hand on the door. "I know. I mean, I know you guys got in a fight, and she left but-" She stopped when she saw a young boy approaching, coming to stand next to Nicholas._

_ The boy looked at Grace, briefly making eye contact with her, before turning to Nicholas. "What's going on, Dad?"_

_ Nicholas wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Nothing, Son." He spoke to Grace once more, not letting go of the child she knew must be Steve. "She's not coming back here."_

_ Grace rushed to speak, the words she needed tumbling out. "What I'm trying to say is Clara killed herself a couple of days ago. She was staying with me, and I found her. I thought you'd want to know."_

_ Grace saw the boy's eyes grow wide, as Nicholas spoke, no sign of the reaction she'd anticipated. "I think you should go now."_

_ Grace's mouth dropped open, as the door started to close. She didn't try to stop it this time, and just before it did, she heard the boy's voice ask what she surmised was about to be the very question she had herself. "Dad, why would she-"_

* * *

Grace sprayed cleaner on the window in front of her, watching it sprinkle the surface, as she remembered the closed door that ended her communication with Nicholas and Steve Randle. She understood now why Nicholas had grasped his little boy in a protective hold and why his voice had been devoid of grief.

Grace had thought she understood, even then, the look on Steve's face, but she supposed that had been only a surface reaction to hearing another human being had taken her own life. It was a concept she wished she hadn't mentioned around a child the moment the news left her lips.

Grace lifted the cloth in her hand and pressed it to the window, moving it back and forth. She'd had no idea this young boy would blame himself for something so terrible. Even though Clara had spilled vague bits and pieces of what happened, she'd also never imagined the friend she had would molest a child. The cloth wiped away the Windex, taking with it the dirt and dust. As Grace stared at the streaked glass, the window much clearer now, she knew what she believed she should do and what she actually wanted to do.

Before Grace walked away from the window, the spray bottle and wash cloth in her hands, she said a short prayer, born of the questions in her heart. "God, what do you think I should do? Please help me know for sure if this is the right thing."

* * *

When Steve came home from the Curtis', he found one of his pills and a glass of water on the counter. As he took the medicine, he noticed his dad was sound asleep on the couch. Pouring the remaining water out, he left the glass in the sink, then walked past Nicholas and into the hallway. He went to his bedroom and changed into night clothes, before pulling two blankets from the closet.

Steve gently tossed one of the blankets over his dad and tucked it around him. He hovered there for a moment, letting his head touch Nicholas' shoulder, as he whispered. "Good night, Dad."

Steve switched off the lamp that had been left on, then settled on the smaller sofa across from Nicholas. He wrapped himself up in the other blanket and put a pillow under his head, glancing at his dad one last time, before giving into slumber.

* * *

Soda sat at the table in the dimly lit kitchen, his head resting on folded arms. He raised an eyebrow at his big brother. "Why are you looking at me like that, Darry?"

Darry raised an eyebrow of his own. "Cause I can tell you're thinking too hard."

Soda lifted his head up. "Yeah, well, maybe I should."

Darry took the chair across from his brother. "What do you mean by that?"

"I got kind of upset earlier and sort of almost told Steve about, you know, what I told you."

"I think you should tell him, little buddy."

"I mean, he knows there's something bothering me. He told me that. I didn't deny it either. I couldn't. But I just don't feel right about doing that, Dar."

"You don't feel right about doing what?"

"Telling Steve all that kind of stuff when he feels bad already. Worse than I can imagine. It makes me think I don't even have a right to feel the way I do. Nothing happened to me."

Darry leaned forward, his elbows on the table, as he looked at Soda's face. "Sodapop, it doesn't work like that. It's not a contest to see who has more pain. Steve would listen to you too. You know he would, little buddy."

"He just shouldn't have to though, Dar."

"I bet he'd want to. Why don't you leave that up to him?"

* * *

Steve's eyes opened when he smelled the aroma of food drifting from the kitchen. He stretched and sat up, hearing the clang of pots and pans. He rubbed his eyes, noticing the time on the clock that hung on the living room wall. "Man, I was sleeping hard."

Steve pushed the blanket off himself and stood up, his head still foggy with sleep. He shuffled into the kitchen, seeing his dad in front of the stove.

Nicholas dropped a pair of waffles into the toaster, before pressing the handle down. He turned his head, as he stirred the hash browns that were still cooking. "Hey, Son. You decided to pass out in the living room last night too, huh?"

Steve sat down, watching Nicholas pour some oatmeal from a pot into two bowls. "Guess so. Figured I'd stay there with you. You know?"

"Yeah. I know." Nicholas turned off the burner that had heated the hash browns, before opening the oven and taking out a tray of biscuits.

Steve eyed the food, noticing there was also a plate of bacon on the counter. "Um, Dad, did you just feel like cooking or what?"

Nicholas shot him a grin, just as the waffles sprang up, and he put each one on a plate. "Something like that. I woke up a while ago and wasn't sure what else to do. Want eggs too?"

"No, thanks. I think we're good. Hey, Dad, I was thinking last night, and I know I said okay, but I'm not too sure about talking to Grace. It's just I kind of wonder if you were right before. I don't want to know something else that might bother me even more."

* * *

Grace held the velvet box in her hand and opened it to reveal the silk lining that cushioned a white rose pendant. It belonged to a necklace that had been gifted to her after she gave her life to Christ. She lifted the necklace out of the box and slipped the silver chain around her neck, fastening the clasp underneath the hair that hung loose over her back and shoulders.

Grace looked down at the rose, then picked it up, the painted petals in the palm of her hand. She'd certainly worn the necklace since Clara's death, but just after, she had taken it off, finding she couldn't see the pure whiteness of the rose without picturing blood dripping from this spiritual flower that was meant to be a reminder of her eternal salvation.

Grace traced her finger over the rose's clay petals, before putting it down, the silver chain making it nestle in the center of her chest, never too far from her heart. She looked down at that rose one more time, the pendant a token that always made her remember God's presence and peace remained with her wherever she may go.

* * *

Samuel stared at the Bible he'd just closed and the pad of paper next to it that had the outline for the next day's sermon written down on its blue lines. He told himself he could get through this moment, that Jesus was also tempted, yet he did not sin.

Samuel knew all the biblical answers to how he was feeling. He knew God wouldn't allow a greater temptation than what he could bear. He wouldn't leave him with no way out. Yet, it seemed like more than he could withstand since the day he'd given in to the alcohol he knew he shouldn't have, the drink he shouldn't even want.

Samuel's gaze moved over the sermon outline, the Bible verses he'd referenced and the lists he'd created seeming to mock him. "God, I don't feel worthy to be up there talking to these people when I'm struggling like this." He felt the pain churn inside of him, the guilt and grief still as fresh as five years ago.

Samuel remembered what he'd told Nicholas about acceptance and being human, the same conversation about forgiveness in which he'd also told his friend how his brief experience with alcohol numbed him a little too much. He'd learned a long time ago, much like Nicholas was now, that forgiving himself was a process. It wouldn't happen all at once, and it wouldn't permanently erase the emotions that allowed guilt and anger to exist in the first place. There would always be moments when those feelings rose to the surface, just like there were moments when the grief and sadness over losing Matthew were nearly unbearable.

A decision in the making, Samuel stacked the Bible and the pad of paper on top of each other, the scripture about God's strength that he'd based this sermon upon becoming a silent prayer. He switched off the light in the room, leaving to quench the need he had to share his story and find solace in the same understanding he had offered.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Hi! This chapter is the result of a 3 day writing binge, and I loved doing it!:) Feedback adored and appreciated very much, as I can't overstate this one's importance. Just in case the mood feels to anyone else like it does to me, this is not the end!

Steve dribbled the basketball, then shot it toward the goal. It bumped into the rim, before dropping through the basket. He went forward to grab the ball that was bouncing toward him and started to pass it to Soda. He stopped, realizing his friend wasn't behind him, but sitting down on the bench at the edge of the court. "Hey, Soda, you don't feel like playing anymore or what?"

Soda caught the ball Steve bounced to him and held it in his lap. "No. Not really."

"Come on, man. Don't look like that."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." Steve sat down on the edge of the bench. "Like you're sad or something."

Soda started spinning the ball on the tip of his finger. "But maybe I am."

"So why can't you tell me about it?"

"Cause we're in the middle of the park."

"You know that's not what I meant. You keep saying stuff, but you won't tell me what the hell you mean. Like what you said yesterday on the porch. And even the other day, when you said you have feelings that don't make sense."

Soda stopped spinning the basketball, letting it drop to the pavement. "Sorry. I don't mean to do that."

"You know who you remind me of?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Me."

"Why's that?"

"I've done the same thing, Sodapop." Steve stood up and grabbed the ball from the ground. "Whenever I've wanted to tell you something and thought I couldn't, I've said stuff that was only part of it. It's not different, you know."

Soda stood up, catching the ball Steve threw to him. "What's not different?"

"You always tell me I can talk to you about anything, and I know that's true. Even more than I used to. There's nothing you can't tell me either, buddy. Don't ever forget that."

* * *

_Samuel splashed Matthew with the water, laughing when his son splashed him back._

_ Matthew giggled, then went behind Samuel and climbed onto his back, wrapping his arms around his dad's neck._

_ Samuel walked across the pool, Matthew holding onto him for a piggyback ride. "Having fun, buddy?"_

_ Matthew laid his head on Samuel's shoulder, his voice speaking right into his ear. "I sure am, Daddy!"_

* * *

Samuel parked his car by the curb, the memory of driving to his destination almost nonexistent among the images that were now half a decade old.

* * *

_Samuel stepped out of the pool and wrapped a towel over his shoulders. "I have to go inside for a few minutes, buddy. We can come back out in a little bit."_

_ Matthew got out of the water too, his little wet feet running in circles on the grass. "All right, Daddy!"_

_ Samuel went into the house and wiped his feet on the mat. With Matthew still on his heels, he walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then set a pudding cup out on the table for his son._

_ Matthew grabbed a spoon and got up on his knees in a chair. He dipped the spoon into the pudding, getting chocolate on his mouth as he took a big bite._

_ Samuel smiled at his little boy, before going down the hallway. He heard Matthew's feet running behind him, as he threw the wet towel over a rack in the bathroom, then made his way to his and Vivian's bedroom._

_ Matthew watched his dad for a moment, before running into his own bedroom and picking up his ViewMaster. He looked into the lenses, clicking the button to make the pictures move in front of his eyes. "Hey, Daddy! I see the clouds real close and a bird with giant wings!"_

* * *

Samuel remembered Matthew's excited voice, the last time he'd heard his little boy speak. He remembered slipping on a T-shirt and searching for something in a drawer. He remembered flipping through the notes and papers on his desk.

Samuel got out of his car, approaching Nicholas' house. He could see his friend moving around in the kitchen, as he knocked on the door.

* * *

_Samuel heard the phone ring and glanced inside Matthew's bedroom on his way to answer it. Not seeing his son in there, he walked into the kitchen, noticing the barely touched pudding cup still out on the table. The phone continued ringing, as he looked out front. "Hey, buddy, where'd you go?"_

_ When Samuel didn't get an answer, he ignored the incoming phone call and opened the back door. "Are you out here, Son?" He stepped into the grass, his eyes catching the sight of something in the pool he and Matthew had so enjoyed just a little earlier. He moved forward fast, running toward the water, when he realized his little boy was in it and not moving._

* * *

Nicholas had just put the last of his and Steve's breakfast leftovers in the refrigerator when he heard a knock at the door. He glanced out the window, surprised to see it was Samuel. He opened the door, the greeting not able to leave his lips when he noticed the stricken expression on his friend's face. "What's going on?"

Samuel tried to speak over the grief that held his heart in its clutches, only able to utter a short explanation for his unexpected visit. "I just- I just needed someone to talk to."

* * *

_Samuel pulled Matthew out of the pool, his unmoving body lying on the grass. He noticed his son's closed eyes, blue tinged lips, and still chest, able to see he wasn't taking in air. _

_ Samuel began to press down on his chest. "Breathe! Please breathe, buddy!"He put his mouth over Matthew's, attempting to push air into his lungs. He cycled between breaths and compressions, seeing no signs of life. "God, don't do this to me! You can't take him!"_

* * *

Nicholas shook Samuel's shoulder. "Hey, come on in. Tell me what's going on."

Samuel stumbled forward, the urge to weep overcoming him, his shoulders shaking with sobs that could only be created by the grief of tragedy.

Nicholas took Samuel's arm and led him farther into the house, helping him sit down on the couch. "Did something happen?"

Samuel spoke, his voice so broken and thick with tears, Nicholas had a hard time making out the words. "I can't- It hurts. I miss my son. I miss my little boy. I should've been there!"

* * *

_The ER doctor, who had delivered the worst news a parent could ever hear still stood in Samuel's line of vision. He felt cold inside, sure this couldn't be happening. Matthew couldn't be dead, and it couldn't be his fault._

_ Samuel vaguely heard the doctor's attempt at a condolence, as he saw Vivian coming toward him. He rushed forward, his arms going around her. He held her close, certain she was about to push him away._

_ Vivian took in the look on the doctor's face, as she held onto her husband's body that clung to her own. "Samuel, please tell me he's okay. Please."_

_ Samuel dropped to the floor, taking Vivian with him. "He's gone. I'm so sorry, honey! I should've been with him. It's all my fault. He's gone."_

* * *

Nicholas stared at Samuel, remembering the moments in the hospital chapel the day after Steve's suicide attempt. He remembered his own tears and the way his friend had listened to him and been there for him, despite his own pain, or maybe even because of his own pain. He pulled Samuel into a hug, hoping the comfort would be welcome.

Samuel rested his head on Nicholas's shoulder, his vision blurry with the tears that didn't stop coming. "I didn't even care if I lived or died back then. It didn't matter. I almost did die, and if it weren't for Vivian..."

"What do you mean you almost died? You hadn't told me that."

"I drank so much so fast once that Vivian found me unconscious. I wasn't trying to die, but I could have."

"That's what you meant when you said you drank, and it numbed you too much."

After several moments passed, Samuel lifted his head from Nicholas' shoulder and pulled away from the embrace. He steadied himself, taking a series of deep breaths, his chest no longer heaving with sobs. "Yeah, and I shouldn't have, but I took a drink this week. I told myself I would only have one glass. Not like I could poison myself with that."

Nicholas put a hand on Samuel's shoulder. "I did the same thing not too long ago, and Steve came home and found me. I thought he'd be mad at me, but he wasn't."

"Vivian came home, before I could even get halfway through the glass. She was upset, but I can't blame her. She knows I got carried away once, and she doesn't want it to happen again. I felt so bad for doing that to her. She's never left my side. Not even when I fall. She's always there to catch me and just love me."

Nicholas remembered the words Steve had spoken to him the day he'd taken that drink, even knowing it could lead to his not being there for his son the way he needed to be. "I felt terrible about it when Steve caught me drinking, but he just asked me what was going on, then told me to pour it out and start over."

Samuel bowed his head, resting it on the palm of his hand, as his eyes closed. "The alcohol numbed me and nothing could hurt. That was why I kept drinking it back then."

* * *

_Samuel was on his knees at the altar in the hospital chapel, his soul needing to seek the God he knew, even though he'd allowed his little boy to be taken away._

_ Vivian kneeled down next to her husband, the cushion of shock allowing her to appear in control, even though her heart shattered more every second. She put her arms around Samuel, wanting to hold onto the man whose love had given her the gift that was her baby boy._

_ Samuel buried his face in Vivian's shoulder, never wanting to let go of her. "I'm so sorry. Please believe me."_

_ Vivian pressed her lips to Samuel's temple, as she heard him crying. "It's not your fault, baby. I know you wouldn't let anything happen to him._

_ "Please don't hate me. I loved him. I still love him so much."_

_ Vivian started to cry again herself, the grief so fresh, she believed she wouldn't stop this time. "Shh. Don't even say that. I love you. And I know you loved Matthew."_

_ "I keep telling myself this can't be real. I'm going to wake up, and he'll be there next to me. He'll be there, and I won't walk away this time. I won't let him out of my sight. I won't let him die."_

_ Vivian kept Samuel wrapped in her arms, as she started to pray, needing to seek the God she knew now held her sweet son up in Heaven with him. "Please help us, Lord. Please be with us."_

* * *

Nicholas kept his hand on Samuel's shoulder. "You told me once she saved you from yourself. I get what you meant by that now. You've really been there for me a lot. Tell me what I can do."

Samuel turned his head to look at Nicholas. "Please pray. I know it shouldn't be, but sometimes, it's hard for me too."

"Of course I will." Nicholas, feeling the tables turn, reached for Samuel's hands and held onto them, as he bowed his head and closed his eyes. "God, I'm not sure how to do this or what I'm supposed to say, but I do know how to speak from my heart..."

* * *

Soda followed Steve into the Randles' house, neither of them expecting to see Samuel there with Nicholas.

Steve looked at Soda, shrugging his shoulders at the sight of the two praying men. He motioned for his friend to walk with him to his bedroom.

Soda stayed behind Steve, each of them moving quietly past Samuel and Nicholas, no desire to disturb what may be a needed moment.

Steve paused at his bedroom door, letting Soda walk ahead of him. He looked back into the living room and saw his dad's eyes open and meet his own.

Nicholas nodded at Steve, then glanced at Samuel, who was still whispering pleas to God above, worn from the outburst of pain. He looked back at his son, a wave of thankfulness rushing over his heart, as he squeezed both of his friend's hands that he'd yet to release.

Steve could see the redness of Samuel's face mixed with the moisture he knew had to come from tears. He could see his body trembling, as he continued to pray, seemingly unaware of anything going on around him. Steve wondered, even if he wouldn't dare ask, what was happening in this man's life, what was going on with this preacher he'd been so cynical of at first. He wondered what kind of pain Samuel was carrying that had led to the scenario before him.

Soda sat in Steve's room, seeing how his friend still stood out in the hall and stared into the living room. "Hey, Stevie, you think he's okay?"

Steve pulled his gaze away from his dad and Samuel, then stepped inside his bedroom. "I sure hope so."

* * *

Samuel felt a glass touch his hand and took it, sipping the iced tea. "Thank you. And I don't just mean for the drink."

Nicholas set another glass down on the table, pouring his own tea. "I know. You're welcome."

"I was just going to come over and tell you some things because I knew you'd understand. I didn't know I was going to start breaking down. It's not like it's the first time, but it's been a while since I got that bad. But I guess I knew it was coming."

Nicholas sat down across from Samuel, looking at his friend's face. "Don't worry about it. You've seen me pretty much the same way."

Samuel cracked a smile when he heard the sound of laughter coming from down the hall. "Those two are always laughing about something, aren't they?"

* * *

Soda laughed at the story he was recounting. "Then, I don't know what TwoBit was trying to do, but he fell right down on his ass! No wonder they hauled us in for disturbing the peace!"

Steve chuckled, the picture clear in his head. "Yeah, after Superman took that class at the Y, we all had to be acrobats or something."

"We were pretty good at it too. Even Dal!"

"Didn't he do a back flip one time and almost knock out some of Shepard's teeth?"

"Yep! Man, I thought Tim was going to rip him apart."

"Nah, then he wouldn't have had anyone to bicker with."

"That's true. Hey, he ever find out you lifted those hubcaps that time?"

Steve started to laugh again. "No, man! I told you I was fast and nobody heard a thing!"

* * *

Samuel thought of the sermon outline he'd done earlier that day. "I'm supposed to preach tomorrow, but I don't know if I feel right about it."

Nicholas smiled at the laughter that could still be heard from his son and Sodapop. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm having a hard time. Because I took a drink. I don't want to be a hypocrite."

"But you're not. You're just human, like you've told me." Nicholas glanced down the hall at Steve's slightly open door. "You know what I want you to remember?"

"What?"

"That Steve said he likes listening to you preach. He meant that, or he wouldn't have said it. I think I know why too, even if he probably can't see it yet."

* * *

Soda eyed the hymn books in the holder in front of him and nudged Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes, mumbling his thoughts. "I'm glad this church has carpet."

Soda smiled, whispering back, as he looked around the church. "So what happens now?"

"We just listen. It's Samuel's turn to preach today."

Soda watched Pastor David take a seat on the pew beside his wife. That must be Grace, he thought. That's the lady who knew Clara.

Samuel stepped up to the podium and opened his Bible, setting his notes beside it. He looked at Vivian, who gave him a nod and a smile. "I think I'm going to start a little differently today because I want all of you to understand something. I want you to understand where this message comes from. I want to be real when I preach, and I want you to know that I say what I do up here because I've lived it. I'm still living it now. Pain is real. Being human in this world is hard. Most of you know about my son, Matthew, who died five years ago."

Nicholas looked at Steve, noticing his eyes growing wider, as he watched Samuel, taking in what he'd just said.

Samuel saw Nicholas' gaze meet his own, as he continued. "And some of you know it's the hardest thing I've ever been through, not only because my wife and I lost our little boy, but because I blamed myself for it."

Steve sucked in a breath and felt Nicholas' hand on his arm, as he listened to what Samuel was saying, the answers to his silent wondering coming from the preacher's mouth.

Samuel turned a few pages in his Bible, before announcing a scripture verse. "Let's read 2 Corinthians 12:9."

Nicholas turned to the verse, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye, as he read along with Samuel: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

Samuel glanced down at the notes he'd jotted down that morning, reading them for a moment, as he chose where to go next. "I think this is a verse I've heard a lot, but didn't really get it. In the verses just before this, Paul mentions a thorn in the flesh, something that distressed or tormented him somehow. He prayed three times for God to take it away. We don't know what Paul's thorn in the flesh was. We don't know what weakness he was praying for God to take from him, but we do know this was God's answer. So what did he mean? And what does it mean for us today? What are our weaknesses? I know what mine are because I'm not just a preacher who gets up here and tells you what to believe or what to do or how to live. I'm a man, who struggles with grief and guilt and memories. I'm a man, who wanted so much to end that pain and have my son back that I almost died. At the time, that would've been okay with me too."

The image that Steve had been fighting flashed into his mind. He felt a chill, both at Samuel's authentic words and the picture of himself asleep never to wake up, the pain ended. He reached for Nicholas' hand, giving it a squeeze.

Soda touched Steve's shoulder, his grip tightening when his best friend looked at him. He leaned closer, his words so quiet, they were barely spoken. "Are you okay?"

Steve nodded, even as he was able to picture Samuel feeling the way he had, this preacher so troubled with the trauma of losing a child that he felt he couldn't bear it. Though they weren't of the same origin as Samuel's, he thought of his own memories that manifested in the flashbacks that still plagued him and of the guilt he couldn't shake.

Grace looked down at the white rose pendant she wore, imagining blood dripping from the petals. She wrapped her fingers around it, the clay pressing into her skin.

Nicholas squeezed Steve's hand that had yet to release his. Tears swam in his eyes, as he was unable to keep from thinking of how he could have lost him and experienced a grief so similar to Samuel's.

Samuel's eyes scanned the whole of the congregation. "Maybe you're all wondering what my point is. Or maybe you're thinking about how you can relate because you have pasts too. You have things that affect you, that hurt you. You have obstacles to overcome that, even when you've prayed for God to make them go away, he hasn't. Well, this is what I think he meant in that verse we read: God told Paul his grace would be enough to sustain him. His grace is enough for us today too because his power is in that, and he's stronger than any weakness or torment we may face. Even though we, as humans, are troubled by and hurt by memories, guilt, grief, anger, and pain that feels unbearable, God's power gains strength within that turmoil. There's healing in relying on God's power and in finding that when we look to him, his strength becomes our own. That's when he acts and shows us what he can do. When there's nowhere else for us to look, but up, he shows us that within those struggles and even inside that darkness, there is a path to healing."

* * *

_Samuel put his hand over Matthew's, a part of him still praying for his son's heart to start beating again, for life to fill his body and lift him out of the tiny white casket. He looked down at the boy's closed eyes, the long lashes touching the skin of his cheeks that were no longer rosy with the color of life. He saw the baby blue satin that lines this box, creating a cushioned place of earthly rest, despite the fact that the little boy's soul was in the beauty of eternity._

_ Samuel touched Matthew's hair, stroking it, even though he knew his son couldn't feel it anymore. He leaned closer and kissed his forehead, the skin cold against his lips. "I love you. I don't want to let you go, buddy. I'm so sorry."_

* * *

Samuel was sitting on the far side of the altar, as much of the congregation mingled with one another in the sanctuary. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Steve next to him. "Oh, hey. I see you brought Sodapop today too."

Steve glanced over at his best friend and his dad, who were both talking to Pastor David and Grace. "Yeah, he wanted to come. Something about what he told God. I'm not sure." He sat down beside Samuel, his eyes drifting down to the carpet that covered the altar. "I, um, just wanted you to know I thought that was really good today. I could relate to a lot of the stuff you said. I know it's different for you, but well, my dad said he told you about me and everything."

Samuel touched Steve's arm. "Yeah. He did. And it means a lot to me that you can identify with what I was saying up there. I think that's something you need. I came kind of close to backing out of preaching today, but you make me glad I didn't."

"Why would you have backed out? Don't you like doing it?"

"I sure do. But I haven't been doing so great all the time myself. That's what I was telling your dad about yesterday. I don't ever want to sound like I have it all together or all figured out because I don't. Just like I said, pain is real, and it's hard."

"I've been trying to pray and all that. I think it helps me, you know. But like you said, the pain doesn't just go away. It hasn't been like that for me either."

"I don't want to make this sound simple, Steve, because believe me, I know it's not. But keep looking up."

"I really hope you're right about what you told us. I'm not sure what God could do to heal me if he doesn't just take the pain away, but I like to think he can still do something."

* * *

_Samuel held onto Vivian's hand, as Matthew's casket hovered above the hole in the earth, where their little boy was about to be buried._

_ Vivian reached out and touched the white box one last time. "I miss you, baby. Please watch over us."_

_ Samuel stared down into the hole that was made of dirt, imagining Matthew trapped in it. He imagined him in this box in the ground, unable to breathe._

_ Vivian saw the casket begin to lower and tucked herself into her husband's arms._

_ Samuel watched the casket go further down, imagining Matthew waking up and trying to dig himself out, as he struggled to take in air. His mind flashed back to the day of his son's death, and he saw the water pulling him under and filling his lungs. He saw him fighting to stay alive._

_ Vivian remained in Samuel's arms, as Matthew's burial was nearly complete. She looked at the hole in the middle of the cemetery in the section where only those too young to die were put to rest. She imagined coming here to see her son, though she knew he wasn't here at all._

_ Samuel closed his eyes, as shovels threw dirt back into the hole. He saw Matthew splashing in the water and jumping onto his back. He saw Matthew eating chocolate pudding, then looking into his ViewMaster. _

_ Vivian felt tears roll down her face, as the shovels finished filling in the hole. She imagined Matthew in Heaven, running on the streets of gold. She imagined him asking God for toy trains._

_ The burial of his only son finished, Samuel saw him drowning. He saw the life leaving Matthew's body. He saw himself too late to save his little boy._

* * *

Soda leaned against the pew behind him, speaking to Vivian. "Yep. My name is really Sodapop."

Steve came to stand next to Soda. "Yeah, and he thinks his name came from Heaven."

Vivian took Samuel's hand, as he stood beside her. "You about ready to go, honey?"

Samuel nodded. "I think so." He looked toward the door of the church, seeing Nicholas talking to Grace, before he turned to Soda. "It was good to see you here. I hope you'll come back."

Soda smiled. "Thanks. I liked it. It wasn't real boring or anything. Steve was right."

Steve shoved Soda. "Don't make me throw a hymnal at your head, man."

Samuel laughed. "You two are too much. But I mean it, Sodapop. I hope you'll come again."

Soda pulled a hymn book out of its holder and handed it to Steve. "Here, buddy. Go for it." He looked at Samuel. "I do like it here. I hadn't been to church in a real long time. I just kind of thought I should go, you know? Like maybe God would like it."

Samuel patted Soda's shoulder. "I'm sure he does. I'll see you two later." He still held Vivian's hand, leading her toward the door of the church. "You can go on out to the car. I want to talk to Nicholas for a minute."

Vivian kissed Samuel's cheek, as she released his hand. "Okay. I'll see you outside." She smiled and waved at Steve and Soda, as she went out to the parking lot.

Samuel approached Nicholas, just as Grace was heading back to the front of the sanctuary, where Pastor David stood. "Hey. I'm glad I did decide to preach today. Steve told me he liked it."

Nicholas looked toward the front of the church and saw Steve half-heartedly swing a hymnal at Soda. "I know why he likes listening to you. It's one reason I do too."

Samuel saw Soda sit down on the altar and look at the stained glass windows, as Steve tapped Grace on the shoulder. "Why?"

Nicholas watched as Pastor David shook Steve's hand and kissed Grace on the cheek, before going into the church office. "It's because you're real. You're honest."

Before Samuel could reply, he saw Soda's eyes close, his head bowing at the same time Steve was staring at Grace.

Nicholas looked in the same direction, recognizing the distress on Steve's face, as he lifted his hands and covered his eyes.

Soda turned around, his prayer finished for the moment, to see Steve on his feet, as he backed away from Grace, only to bump right into his dad.

Nicholas eased Steve down onto the altar beside him, an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "It's okay, Son."

Grace turned to Samuel, who was now standing behind her. "What did I say? I didn't mean to upset him. I just apologized. I promise."

Samuel saw Vivian come back inside, as he spoke to his sister-in-law. "It's okay, Grace. You didn't do anything. Why don't you go talk to Vivian for a few minutes? I'm sure she's looking for me, but I don't want to go yet."

Grace looked back at Steve for a moment, letting her gaze linger on this young boy, before she opened the office door and spoke to her husband, then made her way toward Vivian.

Steve kept his eyes closed, as he hid himself in Nicholas' arms that had wrapped around him. "I told her I wanted to talk to her, Dad. That I remember her, you know? She told me she remembers me too."

Soda drew nearer to where Steve and Nicholas were, before dropping back down on the altar, close to his best friend's other side.

Nicholas looked down at Steve, seeing there were tears on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Son. I'm sorry it's this hard."

Steve opened his eyes, but still clung to Nicholas. "She apologized to me, Dad. For telling me. For letting me hear what I heard. And I guess it made me think of that day. That day and everything else too."

Samuel saw Soda rest a hand on Steve's back and bow his head once more. He made his way over to him, keeping his voice low. "Hey, you doing okay?"

Soda looked at Steve, then shook his head. "I hate seeing him like this. It hurts like-" He glanced around the church, then at Samuel. "Well, it really hurts."

Samuel nodded at Pastor David, who had just exited the office, before patting Soda's arm. "I'll be right back, okay? I need to talk to Pastor David for a second."

Nicholas felt Steve start to pull away, then saw his son's eyes looking into his own. "You feeling a little better now?"

Steve nodded, covering his face, as he let out a breath. He felt the hand still on his back and turned, knowing who would be there.

Soda gave Steve a small smile. "I didn't go anywhere, buddy."

Steve gave him a smile back. "I know." He turned to Nicholas. "Dad, I still want to talk to Grace. I just want her to tell her it's not cause of her."

* * *

Soda stood beside Nicholas' car, his elbow propped up on a side-view mirror, his eyes on Nicholas and Grace, who were just across the parking lot.

Samuel walked over to Soda. "Hey, I told you I'd be back."

Soda saw Steve start to approach Grace. "It's hard. He's been my best friend since we were five. I don't know-"

Samuel waited for a moment, uncertain how much this boy he hardly knew would say. "What?"

Soda watched Steve stop beside Grace, beginning to talk to her again. "I don't know if you want to hear this. I mean, we barely know each other."

Samuel stepped closer to Soda, meeting his eyes. "Try me."

* * *

Steve's eyes drifted down, as he spoke to Grace. "It's just hard for me. I remember stuff, and it feels like it's happening again."

Grace traced her finger over the clay of the white rose around her neck. "I understand, Steve. It's okay. Don't feel bad. Please."

Steve looked down at his feet, his toe rolling a rock along the ground. "I just didn't want you to feel bad either, you know? It's not your fault you-" He looked up at Grace. "It's crazy how we know each other, isn't it?"

Grace sighed, giving Steve a smile. "Yes. I guess it is. But we don't have to talk about it if it's too hard for you. Still, I need you to know I do want to help if there's any way I can."

Steve looked back down at the ground, kicking the rock and watching it bounce. His gaze drifted up to see Nicholas only feet away talking to Pastor David and Vivian and Soda speaking to Samuel. He could still see Grace out of the corner of his eye, as he looked to the sky, his mind creating a prayer for insight along this path that still brought with it the pain, the dark thoughts, and the memories.


	39. Chapter 39

_ Eleven year old Sodapop opened the door to the Randles' house and stepped inside. He walked up to the stove and took a chocolate chip cookie from a tray, then stood at the edge of the kitchen. He saw Clara, the phone receiver pressed to her ear, as she paced the living room, stretching the cord as far as it could reach. _

_ Soda shrugged, figuring he'd wait right there for Steve to get home. He sat down at the table, starting to eat the cookie._

_ Clara heard only her own thoughts and the voice on the other end of the line, oblivious to Soda's presence. "No. Don't listen to him. Of course, I didn't! That's a terrible thing to even think!"_

_ Soda sighed and got up to grab a glass of milk. He munched on the cookie, as he opened the carton and poured some into a cup._

_ Clara listened to the voice speaking into her ear words she didn't want to hear. "I know what he said, but I didn't. I'm not like that. I would never touch a child in that way. And especially my own son. It's all a big mistake."_

_ Soda dipped what was left of his cookie in the milk, seeing Steve coming down the sidewalk._

_ Clara turned around and saw Soda sitting in the kitchen. "Well, if that's what he thinks, I guess I can't change it, but I'd never do a thing like that. He's wrong about what he saw that day." She listened for a moment, as Steve was coming into the house. "Bye then. I have to go."_

_ Soda greeted Steve first. "Hey! I was wondering what happened to you! I thought you were riding with me and my mom today."_

_ Steve set his backpack down on the couch, then opened the refrigerator, taking out the carton of milk. "I thought I was too. But it took longer than I thought to finish that spelling test."_

_ Clara watched the boys, as Steve poured milk into a cup, then took a cookie from the tray. "Hello, you two! Have a good day at school?"_

_ Soda finished eating the cookie, wiping crumbs on his jeans. "I did! But just mostly when we got to go outside."_

_ Steve sat down across from Soda, taking a sip of his drink that left a milk mustache above his lip. "Hey, Soda, when we're done eating, let's go to your house."_

_ Clara put the remaining cookies into a jar on the counter. "Sodapop, Steve's been at your house so much lately. You should come spend a night over this weekend."_

_ Soda took the last sip of his milk, nodding as he set the cup down. "Sure. That'd be fun."_

_ Steve got up, cookie still in hand, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Come on, Soda, let's go." He looked back at Clara, noticing she was smiling at him, like she always did._

* * *

Laura closed her office door, then handed Steve a glass of water, before continuing their session. "I think we should talk about this, but it's okay if you need to take more of a break. I feel like we only skimmed the surface before because it's so hard to accept in the context of abuse."

Steve took large gulps of the water, before speaking, his mouth still dry. "I remember what you said when I told you what I was thinking after the flashback I had with Evie. I was so confused, and it wasn't like I could tell anyone else that. No one would understand. It still bothers me too."

"I understand why it would, but it's about one thing and one thing only. Just as I told you then, your body responded to the touch. Abusers prey on the fact that the human body is designed to physically and emotionally react to any sort of touch, even when it's unwanted."

Steve swallowed more water, his fingers gripping the cold glass. "So it doesn't mean that I wanted- Or that I liked-" He struggled for words, the shame remaining, even in the face of truth. "Cause I always say Clara hurt me, but it didn't feel bad all the time. Except it did, because I just wanted her to stop, and I knew she shouldn't be touching me."

"No, Steve. It doesn't mean you wanted her to touch you. I doesn't mean you liked the abuse or wanted it to continue."

"It's even more confusing too because I hated her. Or I wanted to anyway. I remember wondering if she did care about me, even after it started happening, and I felt really weird about it."

"What do you mean by weird?"

"I guess I mean if she could do something like that, I wasn't sure why I would want her to care. It seemed like I should hate her and just be able to tell my dad what was going on."

"You were a child, who wanted to be loved and accepted, much like we've talked about before. You didn't have the answer for why she would behave in such a way, and like children often do, you believed the explanation somehow had to do with you. You were scared, and you couldn't see past that perspective, Steve. I can very much understand why you didn't tell your dad when you were so conflicted about what was happening."

"I think the worst thing was when I thought about my dad not believing me or thinking I must've wanted her to touch me or done something to cause it."

"Clara didn't want you to tell because she knew she was wrong. That's why she manipulated you into believing you couldn't do anything about it. I'm certain she knew how your dad would react. She knew he wouldn't accept what was happening or allow it to continue."

"I remember thinking he wouldn't love me anymore if he knew. Especially after she made me touch her too. She was already hurting me. I couldn't take more."

"Like I was just saying, you wanted to be loved and accepted. And you were hurting because Clara didn't show you the care and love she should have. The abuse was, in a way, a rejection to you, and it's understandable that you'd fear more of that occurring, especially when you were looking to the only two adults in your life."

Steve started to speak, then paused, one of Laura's words sticking in his mind. "Rejection. She rejected me. I was afraid he would too. Then, afraid Soda would when I told him. Afraid Evie would."

"And what did happen? What did you find?"

"They still loved me. They still accepted me." Steve's memory drifted back to an incidental conversation and a truth that was meant to be hidden from him that had tapped into feelings of shame and made them bubble up. "Except one time. There's only been one time I've felt like that wasn't true."

* * *

_The house was bathed in silence, the sounds of Matthew's voice and the pitter patter of his feet more like ghosts than memories. _

_ Samuel stared out into the backyard, the spot where the pool used to be still marked with a patch of dead grass. He heard the sound of splashing water, then pictured it flowing over Matthew's face, his body no longer moving, no longer breathing, his eyes closed never to open again. He thought of the funeral service and the burial, the hole where he'd had to leave his son._

_ Samuel's chest tightened, and he sucked in a deep breath, the grief threatening to drown him. "God, how could you do this? How could you take him?"_

_ The phone rang, just as Samuel was walking by, and he picked up the receiver only to slam it back down. He saw his Bible on the table, the same table where Matthew had eaten chocolate pudding. He made his way over to the Word of the God he had trusted and opened it._

_ Samuel turned the pages, his eyes scanning the words that he'd read and preached, the text feeling dry and meaningless to him. He saw the red letters that signified the sayings of Jesus, the words "peace," "love," and "faith" jumping out at him, the comfort they should provide only stinging his heart. He slammed the Bible closed, making the table shake. "God, you didn't have to let this happen! You could've saved him! Why would you take my son?"_

_ Samuel picked up a picture that Vivian had taken of himself and Matthew and held it tightly to his chest. "I miss you, buddy. I'm sorry you had to go. I'm sorry I didn't save you." He set the picture back down and studied his son's face that he was so desperate to see again. He saw his blue eyes, his curly hair, the freckles on his nose, and the smile that held joy only a child could know. "I don't know how to live without you."_

_ Samuel looked out the window at the bright blue sky, the light of day making him feel hollow inside. "I don't know if I even want to."_

* * *

Steve flinched, his pencil sliding off the line. The words Laura had used circled in his mind: _body, respond, react_. He believed she was speaking the truth when she told him that what he'd confided in her meant only one thing. Yet, he still shivered at the shame that was conjured up because of his own responses and thoughts that attempted to distort the nature of the abuse he'd suffered.

Steve tossed the pencil down, the focus he'd managed to gain lost, as more words echoed: _touch, unwanted, rejection._ He closed the notebook in his lap that held the notes for the current science chapter, as he began to contemplate Samuel's words from the day before. He also believed what the preacher had said, but he was uncertain what would happen on the path he'd spoken of and where it was leading.

Steve never anticipated forming any sort of bond with the preacher his dad met months ago, but still, it was happening. He remembered how he'd once snapped at Nicholas for even mentioning anything Samuel had said because he himself was so leery of trusting a God who hadn't stopped his childhood suffering. Yet, now here he was able to not just talk to, but a draw a connection of empathy with this man. Here he was creating a relationship with the God he'd always believed in, but questioned so much, anger and resentment left little room for faith.

Steve hadn't planned on speaking to Grace about what he knew, but something inside him had wanted to anyway. Something had drawn him to her, even knowing the connection between them wasn't one either of them had chosen. It wasn't one that seemed positive on the surface, yet he knew Nicholas wouldn't have told him talking to her could be good for him if he didn't think there was a chance that could change. His dad wouldn't do or say anything that could hurt him or keep him from healing inside.

* * *

Soda eyed Darry's truck that was in the driveway, at the same time he heard the shower start running. The memory he'd tried to deny played back in his mind, feeding a sense of guilt that he'd been largely silent about. He looked down the hall to see Pony's closed bedroom door, then picked up the keys, turning them over in his hands.

The impulse winning, Soda slipped out the front door, the keys still in his hand, his brother's fragile trust far from the center of his thoughts. Even as he started the truck and shifted it into reverse, he only reflected on the words he'd heard that were evidence pointing to what he hadn't known at the time. He only focused on what he hadn't been able to discern was a sign of trouble in his best friend's life.

* * *

Just as Steve opened his notebook back up, intending to keep on working, despite the present questions, he saw Nicholas in the doorway looking at him. "Dad, you don't have to watch me like that. I'm not about to explode or anything."

Nicholas stepped farther into the room, a sheet of paper in his hand, as he tried to form the words he needed to speak. "Son, I need to ask you something."

"Okay. So just ask me."

Nicholas held up the sheet of paper, allowing Steve to recognize it as one that belonged in his English notebook, a list of essay topics. "This was out on the table in the kitchen."

Steve reached for the paper, speaking as Nicholas sat down beside him. "Yeah."

"I wasn't trying to see it or anything, but I have to ask you about what your teacher wrote there. I thought you went to school everyday last week."

Steve saw the note in his teacher's handwriting that directed him to choose a topic, something the rest of the class had done on the date referenced. He recognized it as the last day he'd missed morning classes. He folded the paper and tucked it into the notebook still on his lap, not looking at Nicholas' face. "I did. But one morning, I kind of missed a couple hours."

Nicholas saw Steve's downcast eyes and noticed his hands were beginning to shake, as he gripped the notebook, where he'd hidden the English paper. "Son, what's wrong? Why did you miss class?"

"I didn't want to scare you. So I waited until after you left for work. I got ready and everything, but I didn't go to school."

"You waited to do what?"

"I, um, I called Laura to see if she could see me. I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"So you went to see Laura?"

"And I went to school after."

Nicholas leaned forward, tilting his head to catch Steve's gaze. "What was going on?"

Steve turned his head to break the eye contact, then felt Nicholas' hand on one of his own that was still shaking. "I wanted to see her because I got afraid of what I was thinking. I was starting to feel real bad again."

"It's okay, Son. I'm glad you called her if that's what you needed."

"I didn't want to scare you. I didn't tell anyone."

"I'm not upset with you, Steve. Is this anything to do with why Dr. Reynolds changed your medication dose and wants to see you sooner?"

Steve nodded. "Laura called him because of what I told her."

"What did you tell her?"

"Dad , you don't- You don't want to hear this."

Nicholas touched Steve's face, keeping his hand on his cheek. "It's okay to tell me. I know I've told you before it scares me much more not to know what's going on with you."

Steve's eyes closed, hearing the steady beat of the heart in his chest.

"There's nothing you have to hide from me, Son."

"I told Laura that I wondered what if I tried to, you know, kill myself again."

"Were you afraid that you would hurt yourself if you didn't go talk to her?"

"Yeah. And I'm not planning to or anything, but I was feeling a lot like I did that day. It scared me because I don't want to go through it all again."

"I know you don't, and I don't want you to either." Nicholas put his hand on the back of Steve's head and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Did you feel better after you talked to Laura?"

"Yeah. And some of what we talked about I felt like I couldn't say to anybody else. Not even to you or Soda. So it did help, and I think it hasn't been as bad since that morning. I haven't had the thoughts as much."

"Okay. Good. That's really good, Son."

"I think one reason I got that bad is because I still feel guilty about ever doing it at all. It's hard for me not to think I'll end up doing it again."

"What did Dr. Reynolds think?"

"I was afraid he'd want to put me back in the hospital. But he just asked me questions about what's been happening lately and how I cope when I have those kinds of thoughts. I think it was good to him that I could tell him things I do that help."

"Has anything happened lately that he thinks had something to do with why it got worse?"

Steve sighed, an edge of nervousness returning. "I told him I found out something, so a lot was happening in my head. I guess talking about Grace and all was just a lot to take in at first, then when I got scared too..."

Nicholas squeezed both of Steve's hands, bowing his head. "I'm so sorry, Son. I know I keep telling you that. It makes me wish there was something else I could say."

"But I still think it's good we talked about all of that, you know? I mean, it was there before anyway. I needed to get it out or it'd hurt me more."

"That's a good way to look at it, and you're probably right."

"Hey, Dad, about what Samuel said yesterday, what happened? I mean to his son?"

Nicholas gave Steve's hands one last squeeze, before letting go, thinking of how Samuel had lost his little boy. "He drowned."

"Is that why he looked like he did when he was over here that day?"

"Yes. Do you remember the night I told you I'd met Samuel for coffee, and you got upset because you didn't want to talk about him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that was when he first told me about Matthew. He wanted me to remember to always treasure my son and what we have."

"Man, I really did act like a jerk that night. You tried to tell me, and that was when I left."

"But you came back and we talked."

"And you said you just wanted to tell me you love me. How old was Matthew?"

"He was three."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry about his son. About _their_ son. I didn't even know how to tell Samuel that when I talked to him."

"That's okay. He doesn't expect you to."

"Why did he blame himself?" Steve paused, a moment passing, as he contemplated what he knew about the nature of guilt and what he'd just learned about a little boy's death. "How could that be his fault?"

* * *

_Samuel saw that Matthew's bedroom door was open. He peeked inside, and his eyes drifted over the toy trains still on the floor and the wooden blocks that had built a track. He saw the flashlight his son had used to guide the train's path._

_ Samuel pushed the door further open to see Vivian on Matthew's bed, her body stretched out where her little boy would never sleep again. He drew closer to her and saw tears were falling down her face, the moisture of grief dripping onto the Mickey Mouse sheets._

_ Vivian pressed her face into Matthew's pillow, hoping to sense him and feel his presence in this bedroom, even though she took comfort in knowing where he was._

_ Samuel stretched out beside Vivian, kissing her head, as he stroked her hair. "I love you."_

_ Vivian stared at Samuel, then at the toys her little boy would never touch again. "Am I still a mother?"_

_ "Yes. Of course. You'll always be his mom." I'll always be his dad too, Samuel thought. "That'll never change, honey." And I'll always be the reason you lost your baby boy._

* * *

Soda sat cross-legged against the far side of the altar, his heart in a place of seeking, even if he was uncertain how to go about it. "I know you're supposed to be able to hear me anywhere, God, but isn't it better if I'm in a church?"

Soda could see the cross surrounded by the colors that made up the stained glass windows, the day's remaining light coming inside the sanctuary. "Darry doesn't even know how right he is this time. I know I need to talk to Steve, but I'm not sure how to."

Soda heard the sound of music, vaguely recognizing the hymn that was playing from behind a closed door. "God, I remember praying so hard, asking you not to let me have to think about losing my best friend." His voice trembled, as tears filled his eyes. "But now, I know how much worse it could be. I know it really could've happened."

Soda leaned forward, letting his head drop into his lap. "I know I can't change what happened when we were kids. I can't go back and fix it. But I'll come here everyday, God, if it means you'll listen to me. I know I'm supposed to be praying for Steve, but can you please help me feel better too?"

* * *

Samuel moved the needle from the record, making the music stop. The chorus of "How Great Thou Art" still playing in his mind, he opened the door that would lead into the sanctuary. As he stepped into the main part of the church, he saw a figure next to the altar. He pulled the door shut, hearing it click, before going closer to the person he hadn't known was here.

Samuel didn't have to go far, before he recognized the boy he'd only met a couple of times. "Sodapop?"

Soda lifted his head, wiping tears away. "I hope it's okay I'm here too."

"Of course it's okay." Samuel finished crossing the church, stopping in front of Soda. "It's more than okay."

Soda started to get up. "But I can go if-"

Samuel shook his head, putting a hand on Soda's shoulder. "No. You don't have to go. You can stay."

Soda nodded, as he looked down, feeling Samuel sit next to him. "I just thought it might make sense to come here. Like God would listen more or something."

"God listens anywhere you are. But it's okay to come here too. It is a church, after all. I've done the same thing."

"I guess I thought I should do something he wants too. He does like it when we go to church, right?"

"You don't have to try so hard, Sodapop." Samuel looked at the boy next to him, remembering how he'd talked the day before, his best friend's pain clearly also his own. "I already know what you're praying about, don't I?"

"Yeah." Soda met Samuel's gaze, his eyes still shining with tears. "I'll do anything. If God will listen to me, that's all that matters."

* * *

After Steve had put his school work away for the rest of the evening, he set his backpack down beside the bed, then picked up the paper he'd last left on his nightstand. He read over what he'd already written on it, before adding more:

_Even when I feel ashamed, I'm still loved._

_Even though I have those thoughts, I don't want to die._

Steve paused, pencil hovering above the paper, as he thought of Samuel, his words, and the pieces of his story he'd just learned. He thought of how he was beginning to grasp God's presence and what it meant for him too, then added another reminding sentence:

_Even when it hurts, God is still here with me._

* * *

Darry pulled the driver's side door open, just as Soda was shifting the truck into park. "Care to tell me where you've been and what you're thinking?"

Soda turned the engine off and pulled the key from the ignition, then handed it to Darry.

"Answer me, Sodapop! You didn't have permission to take the truck. You just left, and I had no idea. How am I supposed to trust you if-"

"I was at the church, Dar. That's all. I promise."

"Then, why wouldn't you come and tell me that, little buddy? Why sneak off?"

Soda slid out of the truck, his feet landing on the driveway, before he closed the door, facing away from his brother. "Cause I wasn't sure what you'd say, and I wanted to go right then."

"Damn it, Soda. What could I say to _that? _What were you doing there anyway?"

"Just praying and talking. Preacher was there. You know, the one who's friends with Steve's dad."

"Okay." Darry took a step forward, his hand on Soda's shoulder, as he looked at his face. "So you just went to pray?"

"Yeah, and it's too far to walk, so... I guess I just wasn't sure how to explain it either."

"What would you have to explain?"

"Why I wanted to go. And I didn't really know what you'd think."

"What I would think? About what?"

"I don't know. I guess about God and stuff."

"I wouldn't have stopped you from going, little buddy. You think I haven't said my share of prayers in the past couple of years? Or even just lately?"

"Do you think God listened to you?"

Darry glanced at the house, knowing his youngest brother was there, where he belonged. "Pony's inside, right?"

Soda looked at Darry, the question seemingly changing the subject. "Yeah. I think so."

"And you're standing here with me, aren't you?"

"Um, yeah..."

"That's why there's not a single doubt in my mind that he listened."

* * *

_Vivian stood beside Matthew's still-fresh grave. She looked up at the balloon she held, one of mylar that read "Happy Birthday" in red and blue letters on a background of multicolored confetti. She set the balloon next to a small bouquet of flowers, its long ribbon attached to a shiny paperweight that would keep it from floating away._

_Vivian eased herself down to the ground, her eyes going to the metal name marker that would be there until the grave stone arrived. "I still can't believe it, baby. I keep thinking I'll wake up, and this will be a dream. A nightmare."_

_She put her hand down on the dirt that had so recently been shoveled onto her son's grave. "I know where you really are. I know you're not here. You're with Jesus. You're in heaven, sweet boy, the best place there is."_

_Vivian looked at the balloon once more, its message seemingly so contradictory in the middle of a cemetery, where no one would ever celebrate a birthday again. "I didn't know I could miss anyone this much. You would've been four years old today."_

_She closed her eyes, picturing Matthew smiling, talking to God, and playing in eternity. She pictured him never having to face pain or trouble, always full of joy and at peace. "It helps me to remember you're okay, sweetheart. I love you, and my heart is broken, but I know you're up there, and maybe you can even see me."_

_Vivian's eyes opened, as she thought of her husband, of the man she loved who was struggling with a combination of guilt and grief that was slowly destroying him. "Please watch over your daddy, baby. Please make sure he knows you're not mad at him and you love him forever."_

_She lifted herself up off the ground, the birthday balloon moving as the wind blew through the cemetery. "Help me help Samuel, God. I don't know why this happened or why you took our baby, but I do know we have to get through this together. We have to hold onto each other. Please help him hold onto you too."_

* * *

Nicholas pulled the rake through the leaves that had collected on the ground, then waved to Steve, who was making his way down the sidewalk, his retreating figure going farther away.

The leaves crunched beneath the metal of the rake, as they created a neat pile of orange and yellow. Nicholas watched Steve, seeing him turn the corner at the end of the street, the knowledge that his son had felt bad enough to think of trying to kill himself again and he hadn't even been aware making the calm demeanor he'd held onto earlier begin to slip away.

Nicholas had been a voice of reassurance, maintaining his composure by focusing on what he could control in the moments when Steve was talking to him about why he'd gone to see Laura for a last minute appointment. In his son's presence, he'd been determined to listen, not wanting him to hide in response to any show of fear.

Yet, Nicholas was alone now, grateful that Steve had decided to go to Laura, but still unsettled by how much he hadn't known. He raked the remaining leaves, the autumn pile complete and the grass now ready for any more that may choose to fall.

* * *

Soda propped his feet up on the kitchen table, his chair standing on only its two back legs.

Darry picked up the three plates, clearing the table of leftover baked potatoes and pork chops. "You trying to fall on your head there, little buddy?"

Pony turned on the sink, adding soap, as water flowed over the dishes already in it. "Hey, Dar, I found out Mr. Syme is coming back next week."

Soda let his chair drop onto all four of its legs, his eyes drawn to the window, darkness just beginning to settle in for the evening.

Darry added the plates to the sink filling with soapy water. "That's good, Pone. I know you guys all missed him."

Soda put both feet on the tile floor. "He's better sooner than they thought, huh?"

Pony turned off the water, then picked up a yellow sponge, a smile on his face. "He sure is!"

Seeing Steve approaching the house, Soda stood to his feet. "I'll be outside, guys." He pushed the front door open, yelling as it closed behind him. "Hey, Stevie! What's up?"

Steve finished crossing the yard, coming up the porch steps. "You don't have to yell so loud, buddy. I can hear you just fine."

"Yeah. I know." Soda took a seat on the swing. "So what's going on tonight?"

"Just finished up some school stuff." Steve sat down beside Soda, his gaze drifting to the street and to the path he'd walked from his house, his intention certain at the time. "Then, thought I'd come hang out for a while. So what have you been up to?"

Soda glanced through the window at Darry, unable to keep from thinking of his big brother's prayers and his own and all that he wanted to say. "Um, not a whole lot. Got off work. Came home. Ate dinner just now. Almost fell on my head. You know, no big deal. Got a cigarette, man?"

"Practicing acrobatics again?" Steve reached in his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, handing one to Soda.

"Huh?"

"You said you almost fell on your head."

Soda turned the cigarette over in his hand. "Oh. Nah. Just goofing off at the dinner table."

"Hey, man, you going to light that or just stare at it?"

"What?"

"The cigarette."

"Oh!" Soda reached for the lighter that had been left on the porch railing.

Steve watched Soda use the flame to light the stick, his own thoughts of what he'd decided to say pausing, as he saw the way his best friend was so distracted. "Something on your mind?"

"Nah." Soda puffed on the cigarette, breathing out smoke, before speaking again. "Just thinking."

"But that means there _is _something on your mind then."

"Yeah. I guess you got a point."

"Well, just remember what I told you." Steve took a deep breath, holding in air for a moment, before letting it out. "But I have something I want to tell you now because it's bothering me, and I feel bad about it."

"Okay."

"Do you remember that day I called and told you I was staying home because I had a headache?"

"Yeah."

"I lied to you. I didn't have a headache. I didn't stay home either."

Soda watched Steve, putting out the cigarette he'd barely smoked, then focusing on his friend. "Then, why'd you tell me that?"

"Maybe I should've told you what I was doing. I'm sorry. I just didn't want to scare you, and I didn't know what else to say. I swear I didn't mean to lie, Sodapop. But I had to tell you something."

Soda reached for Steve's shoulder, squeezing it. "It's okay, buddy."

"So after I called you, I called Laura because I wanted to go talk to her."

"All right."

"I needed to see her. I had to do something because I was thinking I might" Steve's voice got quieter, as he looked away from Soda, his eyes on the slats of the porch railing. "-that I might hurt myself again."

Soda stared up at the sky, his best friend's words not just an admission, but also an answer. "So that means you asked for help."

"I hate that I could even think about trying again, Soda. But I did. I thought about it a lot for a couple of days."

"You know what you are?"

"What?"

"You're tough, Stevie."

"I don't feel like it sometimes." Steve turned to look at Soda, meeting his eyes. "I'm still sorry I lied. I didn't even tell my dad either until he found out I missed class that morning and asked why."

Soda gave Steve's shoulder another squeeze. "I ain't mad at you, buddy. Not even close. Come on, you had to know I would understand."

"Yeah. I did. I guess I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't. But it doesn't take much to make me feel guilty lately."


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: I've been around in circles with this chapter! But I think I finally have each scene where it's supposed to be. :) Some of them, I thought about taking out, but each one has a reason for being here, so I just couldn't. Not too long ago, I didn't know if this would even get to 40 chapters, but working on 41 now. Enjoy :)

Before, Nicholas had never thought about how painful it would be to lose his son. Before, he'd never imagined his child dying. Before, he had also never sat in an emergency room, Steve's hand in his own, as he rested after an overdose that could've ended his life.

Nicholas remembered how he'd felt upon hearing Steve tell him about the suicidal thoughts, the cold fear and the desperation that had come over him. Yet, that fear had only become real in pieces, growing with each of his son's struggles. The desperation had reached a peak when Steve acted on those feelings.

Now, Nicholas was all too aware of how terrifying instances of "almost" could spin out of control and become life threatening cases of emergency. He was much more mindful of how thoughts could become actions, how feelings could lead to danger, and how trauma could become pain that created a desire for death.

Nicholas paced the white and blue tiled hallway on the floor of the hospital reserved for psychiatric care. He looked out the window that spanned the length of the wall, the city of Tulsa staring back up at him. He saw the sign that read "St. John's" and the cars in the parking lot, his own and Steve's among them. He stopped, standing still in front of the window, as he glanced down the hall, knowing his son was not far away. He was behind Dr. Reynolds' closed door. He was speaking with this specialist in the field of mental health, who could help him, this man who knew more than Nicholas ever would about what to do.

Nicholas remembered how he'd stayed next to Steve's hospital bed several stories down. He'd held onto him, prayed for him, and cried for him. He'd thanked God his son was still alive, while the relief in his heart collided with the reality that this could happen again. The pain that had led Steve to attempt to take his own life didn't dissipate in the aftermath of the overdose. It wasn't pumped from his body the way the poisonous dose of medication had been.

Nicholas paced the hallway again, reminding himself to keep breathing, to keep listening to Steve, and to keep being there for him for anything he may need. He thought of how his son had been so sick in response to the excessive amount of medication and how he'd called his dad for help, now certain he wanted to live. Nicholas thought of how Steve had rested in this very hospital, recovering from the physical trauma his body had gone through. He remembered hearing his son pleading for him to still love him and promising he wouldn't hurt himself again.

Nicholas stopped and eyed the corner he knew would lead to the psychiatric unit, the ward where Steve had been in order to be sure it would be safe to release him. He remembered how much his son hadn't wanted to be there and also how much he himself had known the additional days in the hospital could provide the care he needed, as well as some assurance that Steve wouldn't hurt himself again upon returning home.

Turning to walk in the opposite direction, Nicholas made his way back to the carpeted waiting area and sat down in a cushioned chair, though the cold metal of the arm rests reminded him of where he was. He looked down, seeing the name tag he wore to work everyday clipped to his shirt. The letters signified who he was, his identity, what people called him. But what they didn't do is explain the role he held that didn't involve his job. Before everything else, he was a parent, a father, a man who loved his son with every bit of his heart and soul. First and foremost, he was Steve's dad.

* * *

_Soda unrolled his sleeping bag beside Steve's in the tent the boys had pitched in the Curtis' backyard. "You can still borrow some of my pajamas if you want to."_

_ Steve lie on his side, elbow pressed into the sleeping bag and chin resting in the palm of his hand. He looked out into the sliver of yard that was visible through the flap that served as the tent's door. "I'm okay."_

_ Soda stretched out on his sleeping bag, his feet flopping into the air, as he turned over to his stomach. "You were in an awful big hurry when we left your house tonight." He reached for the flashlight his dad had given them, switching it on and holding it under his face, with a toothy smile._

_ Steve sat up, as he smiled back at his friend. "You look like a jack-o-lantern."_

_ Soda kept the flashlight beneath his chin, as he continuously switched it off, then back on._

_ "Now, you look like a Christmas tree. You know, with those lights that blink."_

_ Soda switched the flashlight off one more time, making the glow in the darkness disappear. "Hey, we should stay up real late and tell scary stories."_

_ A voice spoke from the tent's entrance. "Hey, you two, Mom-"_

_ Steve jumped, looking away from Soda to see Darry staring back at him._

_ Soda flashed the light on his big brother's face. "Huh, Darry?"_

_ Darry looked at Steve for a moment, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, before he shrugged. "Mom just wanted me to check on you. You know the drill."_

_ Steve unzipped his sleeping bag, before crawling into it and covering himself up. "I think we're good."_

_ Soda grinned at Darry, holding the flashlight beneath his chin again, his face shining. "Yep. We're just going to tell scary stories about monsters in the dark."_

* * *

Steve heard the click of the metal clip, as Dr. Reynolds attached some papers to the board. "So are we done? Can I go now?"

Dr. Reynolds pulled one of his desk drawers open, the wheels on his chair rolling across the floor. "We are." He slid the clipboard inside the drawer and stood up, holding his hand out to Steve.

Steve got to his feet and shook the offered hand, his eyes moving to one of the drawings on the office wall.

"Please know that if any emergency arises in between visits, and you can't get in touch with Mrs. Avery, you can always call here as well."

Steve managed a nod, the meaning of the word "emergency" clear to him, even as his gaze zeroed in on the creation of a child. Two stick figure people stood side by side, one clearly taller than the other. Each were made with lines forming a body, a circle for a head, and blue dots for eyes. Both had a scribble of brown hair and a curved line for a smile. He saw fluffy white clouds above the stick figures, the yellow sun in an upper corner of the paper, and green grass drawn across the bottom. In handwriting that was surprisingly neat were letters just below the clouds, almost touching the scribbles of hair. Together, they spelled out, "Me and Dad."

* * *

_As Vivian opened the front door, silence stalked every corner of the house. "Samuel?" She stepped inside, the lack of reply from her husband not as unexpected as it used to be. _

_ She saw a nearly empty bottle of vodka on the floor in the living room. It lay next to an open container of orange juice. Moving closer, Vivian caught sight of Samuel. He was slumped against the arm of the couch, his body not moving, his eyes closed, as if in a matter of urgent prayer. In his lap, his hand still had a slack grip on an empty glass._

_ Vivian went to Samuel's side, the pale shade of his skin scaring her, as she put her hands on each side of his face. "Wake up, honey. Wake up, and tell me you're okay." She shook her husband slightly and got no response, the smell of the alcohol and the fear of what could be happening encompassing her senses._

_ Vivian put a hand on Samuel's chest, able to feel him breathing, but realizing his heart beat unsteadily. "Can you hear me, Samuel? Just hold on. Please keep breathing, baby." She kept her eyes on her husband, as she went to the phone, shaking fingers dialing 911. "Please, God, don't take him too. I need him here with me."_

* * *

TwoBit fell into step beside Steve, who had just come out of Mrs. Patterson's classroom. "Hey, man, I looked for you at lunch. Where have you been?"

Steve stopped in front of a water fountain near Mr. Grant's classroom, taking a quick sip from it. "I just- I have to go to the doctor sometimes. Okay?"

"Oh. You mean because- Because of what happened?"

"Yeah."

"So how are you then?"

"I'm fine. It's no big deal. I just have to go every week for a while."

"No. I mean, how _are _you?"

Steve's eyes traveled the length of the hallway, debating an answer that conveyed the truth without saying too much within possible earshot of his peers. "I'm getting better, TwoBit. Honest."

* * *

_Laying his hospital discharge info papers and instructions down on the counter, Samuel opened the refrigerator. His eyes were immediately drawn to the untouched batch of Granny Smith apples Matthew had loved. He closed the door, a hand covering his face, the feelings of defeat and guilt no longer quenched by the intoxication that had clouded his mind enough to make his physical body suffer._

_ Samuel took a glass down from a cabinet, then opened the freezer. He had his hands on an ice tray when he saw a carton of strawberry ice cream that he'd once shared with his son. He remembered how they had both stayed up late one night just days before Matthew's death, laughing and making sundaes smothered in chocolate syrup._

_ Samuel picked up the ice tray, his grip greater than necessary to pop out the frozen cubes. "God, you kept me here. Please help me want to stay."_

* * *

Grace stood in front of the curio cabinet in the corner of the living room, her gaze lingering on the array of fragile knick knacks that decorated the shelves. She pulled the glass door open and picked up a clay figurine of a child-like cherub held in the center of a pair of hands.

The cherub, with wings like those of an angel, rested in the hands that lovingly surrounded it. Grace stared at the eyes that were closed, the face that was the picture of peace. She put her own hand over a clay one, as if entwining her fingers with those of the God she knew held her too.

After she set the figurine back down on the shelf and closed the glass door, she realized it was off center. The cherub was tilted back, as if it had fallen or been tossed about. Even so, Grace noticed the clay hands still surrounded the angelic being. They were still a shelter, a place to just let go and be held.

* * *

_Steve turned up a two of spades, as Soda turned up a seven of diamonds. He threw himself down onto his sleeping bag. "Man! I just lost!"_

_ Soda laughed, collecting both piles of cards. "Hey, I brought 'Sorry' out here too. We can play that next."_

_ Steve yawned, pulling the pillow Mrs. Curtis had given him up under his head. "I'm kinda tired. Can we just sleep now?"_

_ "Aw, really, Stevie?" Soda tried to shuffle the deck of cards, his thumbs failing to make the bridge. "I never can get that right." He looked back at his friend. "Hey, you still coming fishing with me and my dad in a couple weeks?"_

_ "Of course I am." Steve closed his eyes, hearing only the sound of Soda attempting to shuffle the cards._

_ "Night, Stevie."_

_ "Night, Soda." The last sound Steve heard was the zipper on the sleeping bag next to his, as his best friend also tucked himself in for the night._

* * *

Steve dropped onto the couch, undoing the laces on his shoes. "Hey, Dad, what is it with you and food lately?"

Nicholas looked at his son from the kitchen, a wooden spoon covered in tomato sauce in his hand. "What? You don't like it?"

"No, I don't mean it like that." Steve joined his dad in the kitchen. "You know, you've just been cooking" He gestured to the several pots and bowls on and around the stove. "a lot."

Nicholas went back to stirring the sauce, turning down the heat. "It's just something to do."

Steve picked up a slice of garlic bread and took a bite. "I can dig that."

Nicholas held an open bottle of olive oil in one hand and a measuring cup in the other, watching the liquid move toward the line marked "2 Tbsp," his mind acknowledging the unspoken reply to Steve's question: And it's something I can control.

* * *

_Samuel sat beside the bed in Matthew's room, the Bible in his lap. "God, I couldn't feel anything when I passed out. Nothing hurt at all. I couldn't be angry at myself or at you."_

_ He turned the pages of the Bible, the familiar titles of both Old and New Testament books rolling through his thoughts. Samuel had easily embraced the blackness that came with unconsciousness, never realizing he'd have to wake up to face the same pain, not aware that he would hurt even more once he had to go back to trying to live without Matthew. He turned back to the first part of the Bible, a passage in Deuteronomy catching his eye: "Be strong and of good courage..."_

_ Samuel reached for one of Matthew's toy trains, looking at it, holding the memory, as he read further: "It is the Lord who goes before you; he will be with you, he will not fail you or forsake you; do not fear or be dismayed."_

_ Samuel didn't see Vivian standing just on the other side of the open bedroom door, simply watching him and listening, as he prayed. "God, please be with me. Don't leave me now, I've been angry at you, but I love you."_

_ Vivian leaned her head against the door, deciding not to interrupt this moment that she hoped and prayed was the one Samuel had been needing. She kept her voice a low whisper. "That's right, honey. Hold onto him."_

_ Samuel was only aware of his Heavenly Father and the words of his heart that were so easily coming from his lips. "I don't know what to do or how to believe this can ever be okay. But please help. I've never hurt so much or felt so guilty and sad. It would've been all right with me if I'd died too. But I'm so sorry I hurt Vivian even more."_

_ Vivian spoke once more, her voice so quiet, she knew Samuel wouldn't hear her. "It's okay. I'm just glad I still have you."_

_ Samuel's eyes closed, as he lay his head down on the open Bible, the toy train still in his grip. "But I'm still here. And I still believe you're God."_

* * *

Soda threw a seven of clubs down on a stack of cards, still holding several in his hand. "We sure do play cards a lot."

Steve drew a card from the other stack, then played a three, four, and five of diamonds. "Yeah. I guess we do."

"I don't even remember not playing cards."

"Me neither." Steve discarded a ten of hearts, before looking up from his hand. "Hey, do you think you'll come back to church with us?"

"Um, probably." Soda played an Ace and a two of diamonds, before sighing, as he set the remainder of his hand down on the floor. "Actually, I kind of went back already."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I just thought I could go there to talk to God, you know?"

"I hope you've been able to talk to him about what's bothering you."

Soda picked his cards back up, throwing down a Queen of spades. "I have."

"I mean it, Sodapop. Man, you get all over me about keeping stuff inside. But I don't want you to do that either."

* * *

Steve eased Nicholas' bedroom door further open. "Dad?"

Nicholas looked up from the white dress shirt he was buttoning onto a wire hanger, his bed and the floor scattered with more clothes and neatly arranged boxes and photo albums.

"What are you doing?"

"Just organizing this closet."

"Man, I thought they were supposed to be messy."

Nicholas finished the last button and straightened the collar of the shirt, smoothing it out, before going toward the open closet. "Yeah, I guess they usually get that way."

Steve saw the written labels on each of the boxes, letters perfectly printed. He went to stand next to Nicholas, seeing where he'd just hung up the shirt. "Geez, Dad." He reached out and touched the sleeves that hung down, unable to keep from noticing the ordered pattern of colors.

Nicholas picked up two of the thicker photo albums, beginning to put them on the shelf above the hanging clothes.

Steve went to sit on the bed and reached for a smaller photo album, flipping through it to see pictures, many of them of him as a child, arranged as if on a sequential timeline. "These were never like this before."

Nicholas sat down next to Steve, seeing his son flip through the family pictures he'd sorted. "I don't know. It was just something to do."

Steve closed the photo album, uncertain how to voice what may be unnecessary concern. "Dad, are you okay?"

Nicholas opened up one of the boxes, his hands arranging the files of papers he'd nearly finished alphabetizing. He tossed Steve a grin. "I'm fine, Son."

* * *

_Soda bounded back into the tent and shook Steve's shoulder. "Hey, Stevie, wake up!"_

_ Steve groaned, turning over, but not opening his eyes. "Hm...what?"_

_ "Come on. Get up. My mom made us a whole bunch of French toast, and there's peanut butter to put on it!"_

_ Steve stretched, his eyes still closed, unwilling to leave the rest he'd found just yet. "What about maple syrup?"_

_ "Of course!"_

_ Steve's eyes fluttered open, seeing the inside of their tent and the cocoon of safety that was his sleeping bag. _

_ "So are you coming or what?"_

_ Steve rubbed his eyes, as he sat up and looked at Soda. "Yeah. I'm coming."_

_ Soda began rolling up his sleeping bag. "We should leave the tent up and come back out here after breakfast."_

_ Steve clutched the sleeping bag that still covered his legs and feet, reluctant to crawl out of it. "Hey, Soda?"_

_ "Yeah?"_

_ "Do you think your mom made that French toast with the white stuff on the top?"_

_ "I'm not sure. Let's go see!"_

_ Steve watched Soda run back out of the tent, then crawled out of his sleeping bag, peeking into the backyard that had been his place of refuge for the night. He stuck his head out, looking toward the Curtis' house. Through a window, he could see Soda talking to his dad and the wide smile on Mr. Curtis' face, as he listened to his son's every word._

_ Steve didn't realize he was staring until Soda looked back at him through the glass, meeting his eyes. His best friend then opened the back door, shouting to him. "Come on, Stevie! Let's eat!"_

* * *

Nicholas approached the railroad tracks, red lights flashing as black and white striped arms came down to form a safety gate. He pushed down on the brake, hearing the long sounding horn that signaled an oncoming train.

Nicholas waited, turning the dial on his radio back and forth, making it scroll through voices and music on local stations. He tapped on the steering wheel, his fingers making a rhythm just as the train appeared.

The train moved along, clicking on the wooden tracks, roaring as it went past the gate that prevented cars from crossing into its deadly path. Nicholas watched it, his hands flipping his turn signals on, then back off again. He saw each car on the train roll by, the warning lights still flashing.

The caboose of the train chugged by, leaving the path on the tracks clear. The arms of the gate slowly lifted, an invitation to cross, a sign that it was safe for cars to make their way over. The red lights ceased flashing, as Nicholas lifted his foot off the brake, then pressed on the gas pedal.

He drove his car over the railroad tracks, cognizant of the fact that the crossings in life did not come with flashing lights. They didn't warn those on the path to put on the brakes or block the way that could lead to persistent pain, loss of control, and the potential destruction of life itself.

* * *

Soda messed up Pony's hair, as his little brother was about to go back inside the house for the night. "Good night, Pone."

Pony tossed an arm around Soda, giving him a squeeze. "Night, Sodapop."

Soda reached for Pony's shoulder, before he could walk away. "Hey, you'd tell me if you started having nightmares again, right?"

"I would. Don't worry. I know you're right down the hall."

"I love you, baby brother."

"I love you too, big brother."

Soda leaned back against the porch railing, facing the house, as he watched Pony go inside. He saw Darry through the window and turned around, his gaze moving to the front yard, knowing his own big brother would be out here with him any minute.

* * *

Nicholas put a drop of liquid soap in his palm, before letting the warm water of the bathroom sink run over his hands. He rubbed them together, creating the bubbles that would wash his skin. He scrubbed, the suds growing to cover all of his fingers and seep under his nails.

Nicholas had closed his eyes, bubbles circling the drain and rising to fill the sink, when he heard a knock at the door. "I'll be out in a minute."

Steve's voice came through the closed door. "All right. Was just starting to wonder about you, and I kind of need to get in there, you know?"

"Sorry, Son." Nicholas stared at the water that still glided over his hands, the soap bubbles now rinsed from his skin. He pushed the handle down to turn the sink off, then quickly dried his wet hands. He left the bathroom, resuming the night he'd temporarily paused for a few minutes of silence only broken by the sound of liquid washing everything away.

* * *

Soda tapped his foot on the floor of the porch, as he leaned forward on the swing. He turned to Darry, who had joined him only minutes before. "Hey, do you ever look back and, I don't know, see things so different than you did before?"

Darry didn't have to ponder his answer to this question. "I think everyone does, little buddy. It's part of learning, part of growing up."

"No. I didn't ask what _everyone _does. I asked if you do."

"Okay. Then, that's a yes."

"Does it ever make you feel bad, like you should've known something?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Do you ever wish-" Soda stopped, looking away from Darry. "Never mind. I ain't even drunk, and I'm starting to talk like a philosopher or something."

* * *

Steve held his heavy eyelids open, his physical body aching to sleep. He reached for his mom's quilt, pressing the stitched pattern against his face. His mind was bleeding with memories, the images and sounds so real, he wondered if he could reach out and touch them in the dark.

Steve wrapped his arms around the quilt and closed his eyes, the need to rest trying to win against the vision-like pictures that played in a cycle he couldn't break. He could hear the words and feel the seemingly innocent touches that were both like poisonous honey, the tricks that had begun the endless circle of confusion. He could see the real self that emerged, anger and force used to inflict the damage, now that he was at his most vulnerable.

Steve sat up, still holding the quilt, as he tried to catch air, the urge to breathe now stronger than the one to sleep. He switched on the lamp, the light from it making the memories lose a little of their power. He looked down at his arms, seeing the goose bumps on his skin, though he was beginning to sweat. He took in deep breaths, his feet and hands tingling, on the verge of the numbness created by lack of oxygen. Though his body was still drowsy, his mind was alert with a cloudy apprehension that amplified already existing emotions.

Steve, even in the fog of unwanted memories and spiraling feelings, knew what he needed. He left his bed and made his way to Nicholas' room, just as he had many nights before. He crawled in next to his dad, drawing close enough to hear his soft snoring and to feel the safety that came with his presence.

Nicholas didn't stir, as Steve laid his head against his chest, needing the physical contact that could calm him and keep him in touch with the here and now. Focusing on his dad and on breathing, he closed his eyes, praying to see the healing within the very real horror that was the aftermath of trauma.

* * *

_Soda shoved his last bite of French toast into his mouth, his leg swinging, as he chewed. "Hey, Stevie, did your dad tell you when you have to be home today?"_

_ Steve shook his head, looking down at the plate in front of him that still had a few bites of sugar and syrup covered French toast on it. "No. I guess it doesn't matter."_

_ Ponyboy rounded the corner, his feet carrying him to where Soda was sitting. "Sodapop, can you come with me to the creek today? Mom and Dad won't let me go by myself."_

_ Soda smiled at his little brother, licking the last of the peanut butter that had gotten on his fingers. "Sure, Pony! You can come with both me and Steve. You'll be safe then."_

_ Steve rolled his eyes, as he ate the last of his breakfast. "Yeah. Sure, Kid. I don't want to go home anyway."_

* * *

Nicholas was stirring, about to turn over to his other side, when he felt something brush against his face. He forced his eyes open to see Steve there, his head tucked against him.

Nicholas recalled, even in the bleariness that characterized the middle of the night, the last time his son had come to his room at a late hour. He remembered how Steve had said he didn't want to care about what had happened to Clara, then expressed his feelings of guilt that were tied to both the abuse and her death. Nicholas hadn't even been aware yet of the burdening fear Steve carried, and he also hadn't known the extent of how the conflicting emotions were fueling the suicidal thoughts in his son's mind.

Glancing at the ticking clock, Nicholas saw they could both catch a few more hours of shut-eye. He stayed close to Steve, drifting back to sleep, his circling musings working to soothe him: He's okay. You've got him. You're his dad. You've got him. He's your son. You don't have to let go.

* * *

_The shadows of night cast themselves on the walls around the ten-year-old girl, the pair of voices from downstairs growing in volume and passion. She heard the curses and accusations, then the tell-tale sound of skin being slapped._

_ Clad in a yellow nightgown, her feet bare, she crept to the edge of her bedroom, tip-toeing so as not to alert either of them that she was awake. She didn't desire to disrupt the violence that was the hallmark of their household. She didn't want to risk being caught in the middle of the crossfire that always left in its wake a sliver of pretend peace. She'd intervened once before and still carried the invisible scars that made her regret trying to make real the fantasy she had of a life free from the cruelty that dominated their family's existence._

_ Still on her tip-toes, as the voices remained at war with one another, she opened her bedroom door just in time to hear the sound of glass shattering. It was followed by screaming that echoed throughout the tiny house, making even the shadows shake._


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: I'm so excited about this chapter! :) Lots of important moments!

Steve tapped his pencil's eraser on the paper in his open English notebook, as Mrs. Thompson further explained the instructions related to their most current assignment. He turned the pencil over, lead pressing into the paper, so he could jot down some terms: persuasive, opinion, fact, analyze, perspective, point-of-view.

He watched her turn and write on the board, the tap of chalk accompanying her voice. "Write what you think, what you believe, even what you feel. But tell me why. Support your views and opinions."

Steve saw some of his classmates' hands go up, still taking notes, as Mrs. Thompson turned again to face the class, before continuing to speak. "But don't just do that. Analyze your position. Discuss your experiences that led to it. Then, just as importantly, consider other possible points-of-view that could exist within the same situation, and explain how they could possibly alter your own perspective."

* * *

_ The hourglass held the sand within it, the grains consistently pouring but making the time seem to travel in slow motion._

_ The first minute ticked by, the sand hardly close to the end of its hour, even though she had only seconds to breathe the air of death._

* * *

Evie slid the eyeliner and mascara back into her purse, her mind still on the words of her friends who she realized only intended encouragement. She started toward her locker, not expecting her eyes to meet Steve's, as she passed the cafeteria door. "Oh. Hi."

Steve paused in the doorway, much to the audible annoyance of the student behind him. He rolled his eyes, moving out of the guy's way, before turning back to Evie. "Hey."

Evie zipped her purse closed, balancing two textbooks and a notebook on one arm. "Um, how are you?"

Steve walked forward, as Evie stayed beside him. "I'm okay. How about you?"

"Not bad. I've been thinking though, and there's something I want you to know."

"Oh? What's that?"

Evie took Steve's arm and led him down a section of the hallway, near Mrs. Patterson's classroom.

Steve recognized the double doors that led to the area outside, where he'd sat in the grass and told God he didn't want to do it anymore. He pulled his gaze away from the window's view of the place he'd started to form the plan to take his own life. "So what do you want me to know?"

"My friends...Well, they've said things."

"What kind of things?"

"Things that make me want to tell you I would still never betray your trust."

"Okay. What do you mean, Evie?"

"I mean everything you've told me is safe."

* * *

Nicholas didn't hear Steve come in over the whirring noise of the vacuum cleaner, as he pushed it over the carpet of the living room.

Steve watched his dad, the indentations clear in the carpet from where he'd already vacuumed.

Nicholas pulled the hose from around the still running Hoover and started to run it along the window blinds, picking up each speck of dust.

Steve eyed the couch, noticing the neat arrangement of pillows and the appearance of freshly cleaned cushions. "Hey, Dad!"

Nicholas heard the sound of a voice and turned the vacuum cleaner off, the white noise no longer there to soothe him. He turned his head, as he replaced the hose. "Oh, hey. I guess I was just sort of focused."

"Dad, it's never been this clean in here."

Nicholas smiled, as he unplugged the vacuum cleaner and started winding the cord up. "That's probably true."

"I know it hasn't even been long since you left work. And it's after dark."

Nicholas wheeled the vacuum cleaner toward the hall closet, aware he still wore his work uniform. "Yeah, I'm about to go get washed up. It was just something to do."

Steve took a step toward his dad, his voice one of soft questioning. "You keep saying that."

Nicholas tensed, his back to Steve, as he gripped the closet door. "I'm fine, Son."

"You've said that too. But you-"

Nicholas slammed the closet shut, then turned to face Steve. "I told you I'm fine! I don't want you worrying about me. I can take care of myself!"

Steve stared at his dad, his mouth trying to move, but taking a few moments to find any words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Nicholas felt a pang of self-hatred at his son's expression and the sound of his voice, but it didn't stop the frustration that had already welled up. "Then, just leave it alone. Please! I don't know what else to say. I'm fine. I'm just trying to stay busy, for crying outloud!"

"So what am I supposed to do, Dad? Not say anything when I keep feeling like something is wrong? I must be right, or you wouldn't get so damn defensive!"

"You really want to know what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong, Son. I-" Nicholas stopped himself, the words on the tip of his tongue not meant to be said in a heated moment. "You know what? Never mind. I need to go take a shower. I can't do this with you right now."

* * *

_A quarter of the sand had slipped to the bottom of the hourglass, the grains still moving with the passage of time. _

_ Yet, she had ceased being able to move. She could no longer breathe, her wish almost granted. Time seemed to stand still, waiting for death to finally claim her for itself._

* * *

Steve playfully shoved Soda, a smile finding its way to his face. "You're crazy, buddy. You know that?"

Soda chuckled. "Well, I ain't denying it, but it's no wonder, is it?"

"Nah, I guess it's really not."

"Glad I could make you feel better. Don't worry, okay? You and your dad will be fine. I know it."

"We just hardly fight now. I wasn't trying to upset him. I have to admit it hurt when he yelled at me."

"I know, buddy. He'll come around."

"It makes me feel real bad though, and I don't want us to be like we used to be with each other. I need him."

"You won't be like that again, Stevie. No way. You've been through too much together."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

Nicholas stepped out of the shower, drying himself off, before getting dressed. He looked at his own image in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him not one he felt any pride in at the moment. He saw the face of a dad who'd lashed out at his concerned son because he had spoken the truth. He saw a man, whose heart had yet to heal from the near loss of his own flesh and blood, a man who still feared where Steve's pain could lead.

Nicholas looked away from the mirror, tugging on the white t-shirt he'd pulled on only a minute ago. He smoothed out the wrinkles, failing to draw his focus away from his reaction to Steve's words that had only been spoken in love. He gazed up again into his reflection, now able to discern what he could see in his own eyes. Staring back at him was a man trying to find his way, trying to do something or anything to make himself not feel so lost in the midst of the rolling and twisting waves of uncertainty.

* * *

_The remainder of the sand started to pour through the pinched center of the hourglass, half the time now passed. The seconds moved by steadily, even though her heart had beat its last._

_ She wouldn't live to see the scars, her own or those upon whom she'd intentionally inflicted lasting damage. She wouldn't open her eyes to see the blood that had poured at a greater pace than the sand. She would never wake up on this Earth to confront the truth about herself that led her to reach for the hand of death in a drive to escape the cold grips of consequential loss and much deserved despair._

* * *

Steve hesitated, his hand on the front door, as he decided to quietly push it open. He went toward his bedroom, going past his dad's door that was open only a crack. He paused in front of it, considering peeking inside. But, Nicholas' earlier words still stinging, he kept walking, fear such a familiar companion.

* * *

Nicholas set one of Steve's pills and a glass of water on the counter, as had become his nightly routine. He glanced down the hall, his son's closed bedroom door the only indication he had come back home.

Nicholas slipped on a jacket, then stepped out onto the back porch, a chilly evening breeze blowing. He looked to his left, seeing what he knew was Steve's bedroom window. The open slats of the blinds offered no clue to tell him how his son was doing or whether or not he'd want to talk to him right now.

Nicholas stared at the glass, the window evidence of the distance that existed right now between himself and Steve. He couldn't let it grow. Turning around and looking inside the house, he saw his son take the medicine he'd left out for him. He met his eyes, easily noticing when Steve averted his gaze.

Nicholas, deciding not to hesitate any longer, pushed the door open and went back inside. "Son, I'm so sorry."

Steve nodded, though he wouldn't look at his dad.

Nicholas hung his jacket up, waiting for a response that didn't seem to be coming. "I shouldn't have yelled or snapped at you. Or even said some of what I did at all." He drew closer to Steve, putting his hands on his shoulders. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Can you forgive me, Son?"

Steve could no longer avoid Nicholas' eyes, his dad's gentle grip still a reminder of what they shared. "Yeah. I'm sorry too, Dad. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"You didn't make me mad. I know I've been acting kind of weird. I really don't want you to worry though, Son. I'm okay."

"I know better than anybody how hard it can be to talk about stuff sometimes. But you always tell me it bothers you more when you don't know what's going on with me. I don't like not knowing what's going on with you either."

* * *

_The last remaining quarter of the sand began to move into the bottom of the hourglass, the short stretch of time nearly finished._

_ In a matter of minutes, her life that had demonstrated the perpetually evil cycle of destroyed bonds of affection was over. In only the seconds it took to make the fatal injuries, her constant quest for deviant dominance was no more, her final transgression letting death take her into its eternity that held no peace for her wicked soul._

* * *

Steve leaned his head on the open door of the car he'd been working on in the garage, his heart beating so fast, it drowned out every form of external noise. He mumbled to himself, as he reached to pull the key out of the ignition. "You don't need to be freaking out. It's not that bad. Just keep working."

Soda's voice came from the other side of the garage. "You almost done, Stevie?"

"Yeah. It was an easy fix, man. No big deal."

"That's what I told the guy who brought it in."

Steve closed the door of the car, the key still in his hand, as he walked over to the small desk in the corner. "Hey, you want to go out and do something tonight?"

"Sure. What do you got in mind?"

"We'll decide later." Steve put the car key where it belonged in a drawer, then took out the paperwork that had already been started. "It's just I really haven't been out anywhere much since me and Evie... Well, since we broke up."

"I get it, buddy. We'll find something to do."

* * *

Nicholas punched numbers into the calculator in front of him, adding and the subtracting, as he attempted to create order among his bills and checkbook. He wrote in neatly formed letters on the lines and spaces, the structure of the logic of math and money a place to put his focus.

Nicholas stared at both the numbers he'd written and the ones on the calculator screen, craving the consistency and predictability that characterized arithmetic. He only looked up from the concrete, solvable problems when Steve appeared, dressed in freshly laundered clothes. "Hey, Son. You going out somewhere?"

Steve pulled on each of his shoes and started doing up the laces. "Yeah. Me and Soda are going to grab a bite to eat, and I'm not sure what after that."

"Okay. Have fun." Nicholas looked back down at the calculator, the display now clear of numbers. "Are me and you okay, Steve?"

Steve gave Nicholas a small smile and touched his arm. "We're fine. I swear. I'm not upset, okay?"

"I just needed to make sure. I still feel bad. You've been through so much. I never want-"

Steve shook his head, squeezing Nicholas' arm. "Don't, Dad. I know that. And you've been through a lot too."

Nicholas nodded, his hand touching Steve's, as he searched for the words he wanted to say. "I'm so proud of you, Son. I know I haven't told you that in a while, but I am."

* * *

Soda picked up the slice of pizza on his plate, taking a bite of it. "Man, I'm hungry tonight."

Steve looked at the remaining slices in the center of the table between them. "You shouldn't be anymore. What is that? Your fifth one?"

"Hey, I gotta keep my strength up, don't I?"

"You talk like you're sick or something, man." Steve nodded toward the area across the parlor. "You think you've got enough strength to take me on at that pool table over there?"

* * *

_The few remaining grains of sand slid through the center of the hourglass, the time now complete. Death embraced her in its bitter arms, her soul that held no empathy for the suffering she left behind now succumbed to fiery darkness._

_ She no longer wielded the power she abused to create the pain that still afflicted the ones who remained on the Earth. The only visible evidence of her troubled existence was a body with the physical trauma she'd inflicted upon it in an effort to obliterate the life she'd always hated._

_ The sand settled in the bottom of the hourglass, the time waiting to move on from the torment it had been unable to stop, the memories surviving even though she was no longer there to be the living, breathing host of lost innocence._

* * *

Steve eyed the striped yellow ball, carefully sliding the stick between his fingers to strike the cue ball in front of him.

Soda watched the cue ball roll forward, then make contact with the yellow ball, which went toward the edge of a corner pocket.

Steve waited, still leaning over the pool table, as the yellow ball slowed down, a second passing before it dropped into the pocket. He looked over at Soda. "Five bucks says I can sink the eight ball in one shot."

"Oh. You're on, buddy!"

* * *

The pages turned, Nicholas' eyes hardly blinking, as he flipped through the Bible he'd now sought refuge in so many times before. Yet, even knowing the comfort and wisdom that existed in the printed words, his mind slipped in and out of focus.

Rose's notes decorated the pages of the Psalms and Ecclesiastes. Nicholas neared the end of the book of Isaiah, then stopped, his gaze blurry with unshed tears, as he attempted to read a promise that should lend him some divine encouragement: "But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint."

The tears that had longed to fall overflowed, the words on the page before him making Nicholas utter a simple prayer of surrender. "God, I'm still waiting for you, but I have no more strength."

* * *

Steve took the five dollar bill from Soda, laughing at the literal expense of his best friend. "Hey, we could go again, you know, and double the bet."

Soda smiled in spite of the loss. "Don't go getting cocky, man."

Steve pocketed the money and picked up his cue stick. "Seriously, let's play another round."

Soda reached for the rack, beginning to place the balls in it. "All right. I'll break this time."

* * *

Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed, the Bible near him still open to the promise he'd read earlier, though he no longer felt the draw to read. He thought back to how he'd stared at his face in the mirror, to how he'd recognized the expression that betrayed his state of mind. He imagined that if he could look deep into his own eyes right now, he'd see the strength he'd gathered visibly disappearing.

Nicholas picked up the Bible, fidgeting with the front cover, his fingers tracing the gold lettering that identified it as the Holy Word of God. He heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by Steve's footsteps in the kitchen and his voice that spoke of a pleasant night. "Hey, Dad, you should've seen it. We played a couple games of pool and-"

Nicholas looked away from Steve, who now stood in the doorway. He closed the Bible and put it down on his pillow, as he tried to wipe away the tears that were again falling from his eyes. "I'm fine, Son. What were you saying?"

Steve closed the remaining distance between them and dropped down beside Nicholas. "No. You're not fine. Come on, Dad. Talk to me. What's going on with you?"

"I keep trying to-" Nicholas tried to form the words to reply, the answer to Steve's question breaking into pieces. "But whenever I think- I just can't anymore."

The tears on his dad's face making his eyes also start to well up, Steve laid his head on Nicholas' shoulder, one hand rubbing his back. "Just tell me whatever you're thinking. You know, like you've gotten me to do when I need it."

Nicholas drew in a breath, his voice shaking as he spoke. "I want to be strong for you, Son. But I can't do it. I feel like I'm going crazy."

"You have been strong, but you don't have to be."

"I keep thinking about everything all the time. It's like my head is spinning, and I do things to try to make it stop. But they don't work."

Steve saw the pieces of his dad's behavior click together in his mind, the logic clear to him. "What's everything? Do you just mean me?"

"I mean all that's happened. Your mom. All I did wrong. All you've been through. What you're still going through. And then even Samuel and Grace."

"You sound like me when I have too much going on in my head."

Nicholas closed his eyes, the urge to sob beginning to grow. He felt Steve's hand rubbing circles on his back and his head still leaning on his shoulder. "Son, I have to tell you it was so hard to hear that you'd thought about trying to kill yourself again, and I had no idea. I was right here, and I didn't even know you were feeling that bad."

"I'm not going to do it, Dad. And you only didn't know because I didn't let you see."

"But whenever I think about losing you," The sob rose in Nicholas' chest, breaking free as he finished his thought. "it hurts like something is tearing me apart inside."

Steve lifted his head from Nicholas' shoulder, watching his dad so overcome with emotion at the mere thought of such tragic grief. "You're not losing me." He wrapped his arms around Nicholas, holding him tight through the pain that shook his very soul. "Shh. I promise you're not losing me."

Nicholas returned the embrace, reaching to hold onto Steve just as tight. "I couldn't live without you, Son."

"You won't have to, Dad. I'm here." Steve felt a tear drip down his cheek, realizing his heart was certain of the truth in the reassurances he was speaking to comfort Nicholas. "And I'm staying here."

* * *

Darry handed Soda the mug of hot chocolate he'd asked for, as he sat back down beside him on the back porch steps. "Why didn't you tell me this before, little buddy?"

Soda's eyes were still red, as he sipped the hot chocolate, the liquid soothing after he'd revealed a secret he could no longer keep from his big brother. "I almost did sometimes. But I felt bad, Dar. I still feel bad. If I'd have known what she meant, I would've said something."

"You couldn't have known, Sodapop. Steve was just a kid, and you were too. It sounds to me like she knew you heard her and thought you might say something, and that's why it was her idea for you to spend the night."

"Yeah. She was going to make sure I didn't tell, just like she made sure Steve didn't. I always remembered hearing her on the phone and how Steve and me spent the night out in that tent in our yard and all, but it's different now, you know?"

Darry, hearing the tremble in his little brother's voice, laid a hand on his back. "I know. Please talk to Steve. You need to, so _he_ can tell you it's okay, and you couldn't have known. It's the truth, little buddy, and you need to hear it from him."

* * *

_She still wore her yellow nightgown, her feet careful to step around the broken glass that remained on the floor. She saw both of them outside, the silence in the air not one of peace._

_She didn't speak, as her mother came back inside, stepping around her, the lack of affection so normal, it no longer carried a sting. She watched the woman move about, the bruises on her wrists blooming to match the ones on her face._

_She looked down at the scattered glass, her father's voice cutting sharp into her thoughts. "Don't just stand there, and look at it! Get the broom and clean this damn mess up!"_

_She cringed, her eyes narrowing, though she'd never dare talk back to her father. Her mother looked at her, her gaze made of steel, even though this was her only child standing there, a little girl this woman should've loved._

_She looked between her parents, her eyes void of tears, as her mind was beginning to make a vow she was too young to comprehend. Yet, it would permanently damage her view of life and distort the lens through which she perceived her own actions._

* * *

Samuel sat back in the rocking chair, the story the boy beside him had told making him smile. "So that's why you two kept making jokes about hymnals."

Steve leaned forward in his chair, making it rock slightly, as he looked at Samuel, uncertain about changing the subject to what he actually wanted to discuss. "Yeah. Soda brought it up once after I went to church the first time and hasn't forgotten again yet."

Samuel waited, noticing the expression on Steve's face was one he'd also seen on Nicholas. "You didn't come over here just to tell me about that, did you?"

"No. But I don't know how to say what I'm wondering without upsetting you or something."

"Why would it upset me?"

"You told me you haven't been doing so great, and I saw how you were that day at my house."

"Steve, just tell me. It'll be fine. I promise."

Steve stared down at his feet, contemplating how to begin. "It's kind of about something you said in your sermon last time." He looked back up at Samuel, a smile playing on his lips. "But only if you're sure cause I sort of like you. You're pretty tuff, even for a preacher guy."

Samuel laughed. "That's a big compliment coming from you, isn't it?"

"Well, I _had_ to say something good first in case you do get upset."

Samuel sighed, looking at the kid he was just getting to know. "If it's something I mentioned in my sermon, I'm okay with talking about it. I wouldn't use anything in a message I don't want to come up again. So go ahead."

"You said you almost died because you wanted to end the pain."

"Yeah. I did. I wasn't trying to kill myself, but I came pretty close."

"You said it would've been okay with you if you had died. So what was it like when you didn't?"

"Hard. I felt terrible. I woke up in the hospital because my wife found me unconscious after I drank way too much vodka too fast. I kept drinking because I couldn't feel anything, and that was what I wanted."

Steve bit his bottom lip, realizing his next question would indirectly reveal a thought he'd only expressed to Laura. "Did you ever wish that you had died?"

Samuel nodded. "Lots of times."

"My dad, he told you what I did, right?"

"He told me you overdosed, yes."

"I thought I would just go to sleep. Not feel anything anymore, like what you said. But I got real sick, then called my dad to help me. I got so scared I would die."

"If Vivian hadn't found me when she did, I might not be here now. I'm glad she called for help. But when I first woke up, I remember just wanting to go back to sleep. I didn't want to keep living without my son."

"So you never did anything like that again? You didn't hurt yourself anymore?"

"No, I didn't. Because as much as I thought I didn't want to live, I didn't really want to die either. It was the hardest time in my life, the worst I can imagine ever going through. But I'm glad to still be here now."

"I'm sorry your son died. I wanted to tell you before, but I just didn't know how."

"That's okay. I know where he is, but I have no words for how much I still miss him. He was my buddy, my little boy."

"After you first told my dad about him, he came home and told me he loves me. Well, he tried anyway. I kind of wouldn't let him finish what he was saying after I heard he'd been talking to you."

"Why is that?"

"I knew you were a preacher, and I just couldn't stand to think about God or anything like that yet. But no offense. Not anymore anyway."

"None taken. None at all."

"I mean, I believed in God still, but I was mad at him. I didn't know how to pray and didn't really want to try either."

"I know exactly what you mean. I've been there too. After Matthew died, I was angry at myself and at God. Sometimes, I still am."

"You told me you didn't hurt yourself anymore, but what happened after you almost died? What did you do?"

"I went home, and I'll be honest, I didn't want to be here on this Earth, let alone in this house where Matthew should've been. And I felt so bad for putting Vivian through more after she'd just lost him too. But I kept going."

"Did you still drink?"

"No. Cause I knew if I did, I wouldn't stop. I have once since that happened, and it was only a couple of weeks ago. It was something I shouldn't have been doing. I hit a rough patch and did it anyway. I still have days where peace is hard to hang onto, and I have to keep forgiving myself for not being able to save my son."

"I know I keep asking you questions, but is it okay if I ask one more?"

"Of course, it is."

"You told us at church that there's healing within our pain and memories and stuff. So how do I find it?"

* * *

_Having outgrown both the yellow nightgown and the ways of her supposedly changed parents, she stared at him, as she danced, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. He came toward her, intending to speak first, but she didn't allow it, her voice dripping with a charm that had already been honed to perfection. "Hi there. Care to dance with me? I came alone tonight, and I sure could use the company."_

_ He smiled, appreciating the beauty before him he couldn't know was the deceptively perfect cover for what lie beneath it. "I'd love to. I've seen you around. I'm Nathan."_

_ She stepped closer to him, her hand touching his shoulder, as the band began the chords to a new song. "You look familiar. Maybe I've seen you around too. I'm Clara."_

* * *

Steve released the football, making it spin through the air, as it went toward Soda. "Aw, you're just sore cause you lost both times."

Soda ran forward, reaching up to catch the ball, as it was about to go over his head. "I ain't sore. I'll get you next time."

Steve watched Soda throw the football his way again, seeing Nicholas' car pull into the driveway, just as he caught it. "Hey, Dad!"

Nicholas stepped out of the open door of his car, catching the ball Steve tossed to him. He turned it over in his hands, looking at his son, a smile crossing his face. He threw the ball back in Steve's direction, watching him go backwards to catch it in the air.

Soda rushed forward, tackling Steve to the ground, just as he grasped the ball.

Nicholas started toward the house, chuckling at the two boys, who were now wrestling on the front lawn, both of them vying for possession of the football. He saw Soda grab hold of it, only for Steve to make him trip, laughing so hard, he fell to the ground himself.

Nicholas stopped in front of the door, the sound of Steve's laughter echoing so loudly in his heart that it made a spark of hope ignite. He watched his son, the moments he was sharing with his best friend making him seem so free of burdens and troubles. The newly lit flame started to grow into a beacon of light, making Nicholas' easily unsettled mind remember the words Steve had spoken to him the night before. He let his ears still focus on the sounds of joy coming from both boys, but looked up, his mouth making a prayer out of Steve's consoling promise to him that had been coated with determination and sincerity. "God, he has to stay here. No matter what else happens, please let him stay here."


	42. Chapter 42

Samuel set the sheet of music back on top of the piano, the words of the song he'd played during the worship part of the service not leaving his mind. He hummed the hymn that told of God's whispering voice and his peace that was sweeter than any found on Earth.

The people who remained after the service conversed with one another, as Samuel sat down on the piano bench, still humming the tune. He saw Nicholas' gaze catch his own, before the other man started to make his way over.

Nicholas stepped up on the stage where the piano stood, the altar only feet away. "Hey. Steve told me he was talking to you yesterday."

Samuel could see Steve in the corner of the sanctuary standing beside Soda, both of them chatting with Pastor David. "Yeah. He surprised me."

"Well, to tell you the truth, he surprised me too. But it seems like a good thing."

"I didn't expect him to be so open with me."

"I think you just have that effect on people."

Samuel caught Soda's eye and nodded at him. "Yeah. I seem to, don't I?"

* * *

Grace walked away from the center row of pews, sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder and holding her Bible in the other hand, as she went to stand beside Steve. "Hi. I'm glad you still came this morning. I got kind of worried you wouldn't want to after what happened last Sunday."

Steve saw Vivian and David talking near the front of the sanctuary, just as Soda disappeared through the door of the office room where Samuel had gone. He looked at Grace, remembering the flashback he'd had inside the church, one among so many. "Um, yeah, that happens pretty much anywhere. It's not just, you know, you and what we were kind of close to talking about."

Nicholas came from outside and approached Steve, tossing an arm over his shoulders. "You going to be ready to go soon, Son?"

Steve nodded at his dad, his next words to Grace coming out before he could give them another thought. "Do you think we could maybe meet and talk one day? I mean, like tomorrow or something?"

Grace shared a look with Nicholas, seeing his sign of confirmation in both his expression and the nod of his head, even as she also saw his arm tighten around Steve's shoulders, the action reminding her of the first time she'd laid eyes on this father and son. "Yes. Of course we can, Steve."

* * *

Nicholas spoke to Grace, as he unlocked his car, putting the Bible he held in the center of the driver's seat. "I want you to know that anything Steve wants to talk about is okay with me. I'm leaving it up to him to decide what he does or doesn't want to know."

Grace could see Samuel across the parking lot in what appeared to be an animated conversation with both Soda and Steve. "All right. I hope it doesn't bother him too much to talk about all of that. Last Sunday, all I did was apologize to him because I'm the one who stood there and told him about Clara's death. I should've left that up to you back then."

"Honestly, Grace, I know what I would've done, and it wouldn't have been right either. The way I was handling everything, I wouldn't have told him that she died at all. That might have stopped him from feeling guilty back then, but there's no way I could've avoided telling him the truth forever."

"You said before that you didn't want Steve to know what happened to Clara. What changed your mind?"

"I still don't really want him to know, but I'm not sure what else to do to help him with what he's still been feeling. I wish I could protect him from all of this, but it's his past too, and I'm praying talking to you will help since you were there."

"I sure hope so too. I know it's terribly different for Steve, and even for you, but it helped me to talk to you. It helped to know what actually happened, even though it was the worst thing to hear about a child going through that."

"It really is different, especially for Steve, but Clara hurt you too. So maybe sharing those memories can help him get through all of this and finally heal more than he's been able to so far." Nicholas smiled, shaking his head in awe at the way his son so easily talked with Samuel. "Our paths must have crossed for a reason. More than one reason, from what I keep seeing."

* * *

Samuel put a hand on Soda's shoulder, keeping him back after Steve went to join Nicholas in the car. "Your brother's right, you know."

Soda looked at his best friend, then back at Samuel. "I know. I'm going to tell him everything I need to. I just don't know when yet. Thanks for listening and all. I'm not sure what made me tell you all of that, but you're easy to talk to."

"You're welcome, Sodapop. And it'll be okay. I can see how close you two are."

The sound of a car horn filled the air, followed by Steve's voice. "Hey! You coming, Soda?"

Soda waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. You don't have to honk at me. I'm coming." He spoke to Samuel once more. "Yeah, I think that's kind of one thing that makes it hard though. If we weren't close, it wouldn't matter so much to me. Anyway, I'll see you later."

Samuel saw Steve reach in front of Nicholas to honk the horn again, as Soda turned to make his way toward the car. "You just like making noise!"

Steve yelled back through his rolled down window. "Well, I have to do something, don't I?"

Samuel smiled, as he waved to Nicholas and both boys, going in the direction of his own car, where Vivian was waiting for him. "I guess you do, Steve! You guys please call or come over if you need me. Okay?"

Steve, realizing why Samuel was saying this today and knowing he meant it, smiled back. "Sure thing, preacher guy!"

Nicholas shared a look with Samuel, as he shifted the car into gear, remembering how Steve had asked Grace if they could talk. I'm sure we will, he thought. "The same goes for you." But I'm certain we'll need you.

* * *

Laura waited for Steve to continue, their session more than halfway over. "Is something else going on that you need to tell me?"

Steve shook his head, the look on his face clearly one of pondering. "I mean, yeah, but it's not that I'm thinking about right now."

"Okay. So what are you thinking about?"

"I told you how I was talking to Samuel. I didn't think much about it that day, but I sure never expected to say all that stuff to him."

"Did you find it helpful to talk to him?"

"Yeah. I know we didn't go through the same thing at all, but he sure seemed to get what I was saying, especially for somebody I haven't known a long time."

"From what you told me, it sounds like you do have some feelings and experiences in common, even though your specific traumas that led to them are so different."

"I think it kind of makes me feel like I can make it too."

"It gives you some hope, which is something you need. I'm glad you have even more support, Steve, and that you're able to both share and listen."

"I'm supposed to talk to Grace today. I guess we have some stuff in common too, but that might make it harder for me to listen to her."

"Is that what you meant when you said there is something else going on?"

"Yeah. At church yesterday, I asked her if we could talk. I'm not even sure why I want to or how much I want to know. I mean, when my dad first told me about Grace, I wanted to know how Clara died, but I'm not as sure now. But from what he said, that isn't even all she told him about."

"As I've said before, it makes sense to want answers, especially those that might help you in resolving some of the feelings you still have. It could be good for each of you to share what you remember about Clara and everything that happened."

"My dad said he had a good talk with her, and he thinks it could help me too. He still doesn't actually want me to know about all of it, but he's leaving it up to me now. It kind of scares me though."

"What does?"

"I guess it's scary because whatever my dad wouldn't tell me before about Clara's death, there's a reason for that. I know he wanted to protect me, so what if I find out he was right to keep it from me? Once I know more, it's not like I can go back and forget it."

"That's true. You can't. But it could be good for you to know more of the truth of what happened in between the time Clara left your house and when you heard she had died. That will fill in some missing pieces for you, even if you do decide you don't want to know all of the details Grace could tell you."

"My dad told me she has memories she'd rather forget about too and that Clara betrayed her. I'm not really sure what that means, but I'd like to find out."

* * *

_The little boy closed his eyes, the same hands that had once held and rocked him now the very ones to make him want to push his mother away._

_ He pretended he didn't hear this voice, the same one that had once sung him lullabies and told him stories, speaking false assurances, peppered with sweet betrayal. He tried to imagine he didn't feel the touches he somehow knew were wrong, letting his thoughts drift to a place of detachment where he could be safe._

_ Yet another voice announced its presence, creating an interruption that made the boy open his eyes and return to this world of captive love._

* * *

Grace sat on a chair in the Randles' kitchen, dabbing at her face with a napkin. She turned to Nicholas, who was finishing cleaning up. "Thank you for dinner. It was delicious."

Nicholas turned off the sink and dried his hands. "You're welcome." He looked at Steve, who was standing in front of the window, his back turned to both his dad and Grace. "Son?"

Steve turned his head to see Nicholas, as he crossed his arms over his chest, noticing the sweat on his palms. "Dad, can I have a minute by myself, please? Before we, you know, talk about anything?"

Nicholas touched Steve's shoulder, as his son opened the door to step outside. "Of course you can. Everything's up to you, okay?"

* * *

Grace saw Steve on the hood of his car, noticing how he kept looking up, the little bit of sun that remained shining down on his face. "Is he okay?"

Nicholas let out a breath, propping his elbows up on the table, watching Steve for any sign that could mean the pending conversation shouldn't take place. "I think so, actually. And I believe he'll tell me if he's not."

* * *

Steve looked down at his lap, his mind deciding where to begin. "So, um, how did you know Clara?"

Grace thought back to the cafe, the simplicity of Steve's question a relief to her for now. "We met at a little restaurant in town and got to talking. We were really more like acquaintances than close friends."

Steve heard Nicholas' chair scoot closer to his, grateful for his dad's presence. "Oh. But she went to your house that night after-" He swallowed, the memory of the last time he'd seen Clara flashing into his head. "-after she left here?"

Grace let her memory carry her back to the night Clara had shown up at her house. "Yes. I guess she didn't know where else to go, and maybe she knew I wouldn't turn her away. Of course, I had no idea what actually happened because she didn't tell me."

Steve felt Nicholas' hand on his arm, his next question an obvious one. "So what did she tell you then?"

Grace chose to start with the part of Clara's emotional ramblings that didn't involve Steve. "That she and your dad had an argument basically, and he kicked her out."

Steve's voice got quieter, his next wondering a pained reminder of his want for Clara to care. "Did she even mention me?"

Grace met Nicholas' gaze for a moment, aware of how close they were getting to discussing the abuse itself. "Yes. She told me that your dad believed she had hurt you. When I asked her what he thought she did, she wouldn't tell me. She only said she'd never do something like that."

Steve let the next question roll of his tongue, wishing he didn't care about the answer. "Was she sad?"

Grace remembered Clara's tears and the words of a woman who had sounded broken over loss, though she couldn't see past the deception now, knowing the true motives. "She_ was_ sad. She was crying and saying she'd lost her husband and son and now you and your dad too."

Steve pictured Clara with tears on her face, uncertain about what to believe of any emotion she'd encountered the night she'd been caught in his bedroom. "She told me she lost her son, Christopher, and wouldn't say what that meant. Just that I reminded her of him and that she didn't have him because of somebody named Nathan."

Grace recalled the vagueness with which Clara had talked about Nathan and Christopher, able to assume the reality of it now. " Nathan was her husband. She wouldn't say exactly what happened with him or with Christopher, only that Nathan took him away from her. I thought it was strange even then, but now, after hearing what she did, how she hurt you, I wonder if she abused him too. She told me your dad overreacted like she blamed him for having to leave, and it was kind of like the way she was blaming her father for not having Christopher anymore."

Nicholas still had a hand on Steve's arm, as he spoke. "She got caught and blamed other people. She knew she was wrong, or she would've told you the truth."

Steve looked at Nicholas, the next question in his head one that would tell of just a piece of the guilt he knew his dad wanted to help him resolve. "Did she blame me?"

Grace met Steve's eyes, holding his gaze. "No. And it wouldn't matter if she had. It was not your fault, Steve. Like your dad just said, Clara knew she was wrong or she'd have told me what really happened, instead of acting like she was innocent and denying ever hurting you."

Steve thought of his next words, the subject one he hoped he wouldn't regret bringing up. "So did she say anything to you that made you think she'd hurt herself?"

Grace didn't hesitate in her answer. "No. Not at all. That shocked me."

Steve spoke the question that had made his dad react only to protect him when they first discussed it. "Then, how did she die?" He felt Nicholas wrap an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. "What did she do?"

Grace, even knowing Nicholas had told her she could tell Steve about anything he asked, felt a sense of apprehension. "Before I answer that, can I tell you something first?"

Steve took a deep breath, as he nodded his head. "Okay."

Grace leaned closer to Steve, her own unwanted memories so clear in her mind. "What I'm about to tell you isn't your fault. It was Clara's decision to hurt herself and her awful choices that led to whatever she felt that made her want to do it. Not one of us, least of all you, is responsible for that."

Steve managed another nod, his eyes closing for a moment, as he felt Nicholas squeeze him again. "Okay."

Grace sat back in her chair, noticing Nicholas watching Steve, as she began her reply that would take her back to the day Clara died. "She took a knife from my kitchen and went in the den that was the guest room back then. She slit open both arms and bled to death on the bed."

Steve tensed, holding his breath, as his mind created the image of Clara cutting herself up. He pictured the blood that must have poured from her body.

Nicholas looked at Steve's face, noticing how he stared at the table, his body seemingly frozen in the explanation Grace had given. "Son? Are you okay?"

Steve opened his mouth, though no words came out. Without looking up or speaking, he reached for Nicholas' hand that was on his arm.

Nicholas could feel the clamminess of Steve's hand that had covered his own, his heart aching at the expression on his son's face, even though he wasn't yet sure what it indicated. "Do you still want to talk more?"

Steve looked up at Grace, thinking of how it must have been for her, while he attempted to process his own reaction. "So you found her bleeding or-" He visibly flinched at the memory he didn't even carry in his mind. "was she already dead?"

Grace remembered Clara's barely beating heart and her call for help. "She was still alive, but not for long. There was nothing I could do by the time I found her."

Steve cringed at the image of Clara's dead body, envisioning the bloody scene her suicide must have created in Grace's house. He looked down at his own arms, thinking of how much it would hurt to cut into his own flesh, how painful it would have to be to lie there and die alone in the red fluid meant to sustain life. He felt the beginning of nausea at the thought of someone dying this way, of someone actually inflicting such an injury intentionally.

Nicholas squeezed Steve's hand, leaning to meet his eyes, able to see how pale his face had become. "What are you thinking, Son?"

Steve looked back at his dad, giving him a simple answer that didn't begin to dive into the depths of how he felt in this moment. "Just that that sounds like a terrible way to die."

* * *

_The little boy wrapped a blanket around himself, hearing his mother's voice continuing to proclaim only actions of love, even after she'd been caught trying to fulfill her twisted desire for power by betraying her own flesh and blood. His grandfather's voice rose well above hers, the horror clear, as he spoke of how he couldn't believe his own daughter would do a thing like that._

_ The little boy hid his face in the blanket, the anger in his grandfather's voice making him cringe in anticipation of what would come next. He heard his mother, still in adamant denial of the traitorous touches, insisting she'd done no harm to the son she adored. He only peeked out from under the soft shelter when he recognized a third voice, one he hoped would rescue him from the conflict that held his wellbeing right at its center._

* * *

Grace stood next to her car, Nicholas beside her. "I'm so very sorry. I want you to know that."

Nicholas looked back at his house, where he knew Steve was, uncertain of the way to go from here. "But you didn't do anything wrong, Grace."

"Even so. I'm just sorry about the whole situation and for all Steve's been through. I hope he's going to be okay with knowing everything I just told him."

"I think it's kind of a shock right now, but I hope so too. Thanks for coming over here and being willing to talk to him. That didn't seem easy for you either."

"It wasn't, but knowing that talking about it could help him makes it a bit easier. I had no idea what Clara was really like then, but now that I do..."

"I know what you mean. It changes the way you see everything that happened, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. And it makes me want to do what I can now."

* * *

_The little boy saw the face of his father, the man's gentle presence a comfort in the room that raged with the unrest between his mother and grandfather. He heard his voice speak to him, a calm tone bringing much needed solace. "Can you tell me what happened, Christopher?"_

* * *

Nicholas, having just said goodbye to Grace, found himself not even needing to consider his next action, as he ventured onto the back porch. Steve was there on the steps, his head leaning on the rail beside him, his physical appearance making it seem as if that pillar may be the only thing holding him up. Nicholas settled next to him, noticing he held a cigarette in his hand, the smoke from it drifting into the evening air. "Son?"

Steve didn't lift his head, his expression unchanged, as he puffed on the cigarette one last time, before putting out the flame. "Hmm?"

"How are you?"

"I'm not sure."

Nicholas laid a hand on Steve's back, unsurprised at the tension he could feel. "Do we need to talk about anything?"

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, his eyes downcast.

"We don't have to, but I need to ask. That's all."

"I know."

Nicholas waited there at Steve's side, the silence of the moments passing making him wonder about what could be going on in his son's head.

"Dad?"

The nearly pleading tone of Steve's voice catching him off guard, Nicholas looked at him, expecting to see tears in his eyes, but there were none visible. "I'm here, Son."

"I'm sad."

Nicholas nodded, the heaviness of his son's spirit so apparent. "I know."

"But I shouldn't be."

"What Grace just told you, all of it _is_ very sad. So it's okay to feel that way."

"But you don't."

"I do. For you. For Grace too."

"Not for Clara."

Nicholas realized Steve's words weren't a question, knowing his son was aware of the truth he spoke. "No. I can't say that I do. But that doesn't mean you can't."

"That's a terrible way to die."

"It is."

"I know Grace must've been so upset to see it."

"She was. It bothers her. It would bother anyone, I'm sure."

"She hurt her own kid too?"

"I think so. She told me her father did, but I'm thinking she probably did that."

"I'm sorry she hurt another kid."

"Me too." Nicholas felt Steve shift, his head moving from the rail to his dad's shoulder.

"Laura said it's grief."

Nicholas stroked the back of Steve's head, noticing how heavily he leaned on him. "What's grief?"

"About Clara's death. She said it's grief even though I don't miss her or anything like that."

"Oh." Nicholas leaned his own head against Steve's.

"Cause she never said she was sorry or told me why or cared about me like she could have."

"That makes sense." Nicholas saw Steve's eyes close and heard him sigh, relaxing against him. "You look tired, Son."

"Cause I am. That's a terrible way to die."

* * *

Soda knocked before he pushed Steve's bedroom door open, seeing his best friend sitting in the center of the bed, his pillow tucked under one arm. "Hey, Stevie."

Steve turned his head to see Soda, before beginning to slip back into his thoughts that were fraught with sorrow. "Hey."

Soda stepped inside, closing the door, before he drew closer to Steve and sat beside him. "I know it's kind of late, but I had to see how you're doing. Did you talk to Grace?"

Steve looked down at the pillow he clutched, the case soft underneath his fingers. "Yeah. She told me all of it."

"Okay."

"The way Clara died, it_ is_ bad."

"You can tell me if you want, but you don't have to, man."

Steve closed his eyes, his breaths coming out in short gasps, the images his mind had conjured up more vivid than he could have anticipated, as they mixed with his own memories.

Soda, concern rising within him, wrapped an arm around Steve, his grip on his shoulder tighter than usual. "Easy, buddy. It's okay."

Steve opened his eyes that remained dry, taking a slow breath. "Soda, she cut herself up with a knife and bled to death."

Soda kept his grip on Steve's shoulder, both for his friend's sake and his own. "I'm not sure what to say, except that sounds awful."

"It's terrible, and it makes me feel sick. I see now why my dad wouldn't tell me before."

"Yeah. I do too. Did Grace tell you anything else?"

"Just the stuff Clara said to her about why my dad made her leave and what she said about her son."

"Oh."

"Grace thinks Clara abused him too. So does my dad. I guess that makes a messed up kind of sense since she told me I reminded her of him and that she lost him."

"Yeah. It does." Soda watched Steve, trying to keep his own mind on the current moment, certain that even though the door was open, he couldn't broach the rest of that subject tonight, not when his friend was reacting to what he'd learned from Grace about Clara's death.

Steve pulled the pillow still under his arm closer, resting his chin on top of it. "I don't know if I did the right thing or not, Soda."

* * *

_Christopher backed away from Clara, her touch no longer welcome, even though she was still his mother._

_ Nathan stepped between them, facing the woman he once said he loved. "Stay away from him. I'm leaving, and he's coming with me."_

_ Clara stared at Nathan, the determined set to his eyes making her see she'd failed in her attempt at deception. She looked at Christopher instead. "Don't you want to stay with me, love? I'm your mother. I'd never hurt you. This was just a big mistake."_

_ Christopher shook his head, courage rising in him with his father there at his side. "No. You did hurt me already."_

_ Clara saw her father step into the room. "You! If you hadn't been looking where you shouldn't be-"_

_ Nathan held up a hand, silencing his wife. "Stop it, Clara. Stop trying to make it sound like what you did is okay!"_

_ Clara went up to her father, standing so his face was just an inch from her own. "I would never do a thing like that. I don't care what you think you saw."_

_ The man gazed back at her. "I know damn well what I saw. What I don't know is how I raised someone as sick as you must be to touch your own child that way. He's just a little boy! What the hell are you thinking?"_

_ Christopher looked at his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I told you the truth. I wouldn't lie. That is what he saw. She did, and I wanted her to stop."_

_ Nathan wrapped his arm around Christopher, focusing on his son, even while Clara and her father continued to argue, their voices growing louder by the moment. "I know. I believe you, Son. You don't have to be sorry, and you're not ever going to have to worry about that again. Trust me."_

* * *

Nicholas pressed a hand to Steve's forehead. "You do feel a little bit warm."

Steve picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "I'll be okay, Dad. Believe me, the last thing I need is to sit here by myself all day."

"All right. But if you start feeling too bad, call me."

"I really don't think I have anything. It's just other stuff, you know."

"Even so. Please don't push yourself too hard, Son."

* * *

Steve waved to Darry, as he stepped into the Curtis house and made his way over to Soda, who was still eating breakfast. "Hey. Man, I think if I'd stayed home any longer, my dad would've shoved a thermometer in my mouth."

Soda's spoon clanged against the bowl, as he shoveled cereal into his mouth. "You really don't look like you feel good though, Stevie."

Steve grimaced, his appetite nowhere near his friend's at the moment. "Yeah. That's cause I don't. But yesterday-" He saw Pony head into the living room and collect his jacket and books off the couch. "Well, it wasn't easy."

"Yeah. I could tell."

"But I think I'm just tired today. I guess so anyway."

Soda sipped what was left of the milk in his bowl, before getting up from the table. He put the bowl in the sink, then looked around. "Hey, Dar, you seen my shoes anywhere?"

Darry picked up his toolbelt, sliding it around his waist. "Not today, little buddy."

Before Soda could say another word, Pony rounded the corner and tossed one shoe to him, followed by the other. "Oh. Thanks, Pone."

Pony zipped up his jacket. "No problem. You left them out in the middle of the backyard last night."

Steve let out a small chuckle. "Only you, buddy."

Soda shrugged, slipping the shoes on. "Told you I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached."

Darry picked up the keys to his truck, grinning at Soda. "I don't know. I think you could still find a way to lose your head."

Pony opened the front door, about to go outside. "There's just no telling where you'd leave it. Your body would be running all over looking for it."

Soda raised an eyebrow at the idea. "Now, that's a funny thought."

Steve internally shivered, Pony's words evoking another image that was void of humor. "Yeah. Real funny."

* * *

Steve pounded his fist against his locker. "Damn it. What's the matter with me?"

TwoBit came to stand beside Steve, cocking an eyebrow at the obvious frustration in his friend. "Woah, man. Take it easy. No need to take your anger out on school property."

"Shut it, TwoBit. I'm about to take my anger out on you if-" Steve stopped himself, pressing a hand against his face, as he leaned on the lockers.

"Hey, what's up with you today?"

"Nothing." Steve turned back to the combination lock, each number easily coming to him this time. "Sorry for snapping. I just had a rough morning."

"It's all good, Steve-O."

The locker popped open, and Steve put the books from his morning classes inside. "I think I really need to eat too."

"Well, good thing it's lunch time then! We can't have you being cranky as hell from lack of food."

Steve stared into his locker, his mind on getting through the remainder of the day, as he mumbled quietly. "God, you gotta help me here. I'm the one losing my head."


	43. Chapter 43

A/N Hi! This chapter pulled me out of my comfort zone, as there are a bunch of flashbacks that take place during the novel (and one before). I wasn't even going to do very many, but they're continued in the next chapter too :)

_Christopher curled up in the backseat of Nathan's car, as he heard his father close the trunk. Through a rolled down window, he could hear his mother, her voice pleading with Nathan. "I love him so much. Please don't take him from me. He's my good, sweet boy. I'd never hurt him."_

_ Christopher's eyes met Clara's and he looked away, unable to bear the inner conflict her words were perpetuating._

_ Nathan glanced at his son, reminding himself Christopher had to come first, no matter what Clara claimed her intentions to be. "I'm not going to give you a chance to do this again. If you think that didn't hurt him-"_

_ Clara interrupted Nathan, her voice rising, as it had earlier when she spoke to her father. "How dare you! He's my son too! I'm the only mother he has. You can't just take him away." _

_ Nathan climbed into the driver's seat. "I can. And I am. You may be his mother, but that just makes it worse."_

_ Clara went forward, pressing her face against the window that looked into the backseat. "Christopher! It wasn't really bad, was it? I know I shouldn't have let anyone find out, but-"_

_ Nathan rose up and grabbed Clara's arm. "Don't say anything else to him!"_

_ Clara's eyes narrowed, as she snatched her arm from Nathan's grip. "Don't you touch me! You have no right, not when you're trying to take my child."_

_ Nathan released her, his self-control waning. "Don't touch you? Do you hear yourself, Clara? You were abusing our son!"_

_ Clara took a step back, a hand on her chest. "Abusing him? Why, you don't know what you're saying. I could never-"_

_ Clara's father spoke from several feet away. "But you did. So just admit it. If I could admit everything I did wrong, you can too."_

_ Clara turned to the man she loved only out of obligation. "But I'm not like you. I love my child!"_

_ Nathan climbed back into the driver's seat. "That's not how you show love, Clara." He slammed the door, before his wife could speak another word._

_ Clara stared at the car that was driving away, able to see Christopher in the backseat, his head leaning on the window. She turned back to her father. "This is all your fault. I'll never forgive you."_

* * *

Steve had listened to most of Mr. Grant's lecture, content to find a few shreds of focus that weren't marred by what he was beginning to dreadfully wish he didn't know now. After the bell rang, he started to make his way out of class, only pausing when Mr. Grant spoke to him. "Steve, can I see you for a minute?"

Steve saw the other students leaving, as he went over to the teacher's desk. "Yes, sir?"

Mr. Grant turned a sheet of paper over, showing Steve the quiz he'd taken earlier during that class period. "What happened here?"

Though Mr. Grant's tone held no anger, Steve cringed at the red x's and corrections that covered the paper. "I'm- I'm not sure. I kind of had a bad day today."

Mr. Grant handed Steve the quiz. "Take this." He also picked up one of his own copies of the questions and answers. "And this. Go over it tonight. Study it."

Steve stared at his paper, the red marking reminding him of something much darker than a bad grade. "Okay. I will."

"Let me know if you need any help. I'm not used to seeing you struggle in class."

Steve folded the quiz paper up, the red markings now hidden from sight. "Um, thanks. I'll do better next time."

"Are you okay, Steve?"

"Yeah. Sure. I just have some stuff on my mind."

"You've said that before."

"I know. But I'll be fine. Don't worry about me failing or anything like that."

"Do you still have people to talk to about things?"

"Yeah. Even more than I did the last time you asked that." Steve looked down at the folded quiz paper, able to see the red pen that bled through it in the light of the classroom. "I'll try harder, I swear."

* * *

_Darry attempted to calm himself, the grief still too fresh for him to even comprehend his own surroundings, let alone figure anything else out. He didn't move or speak when the front door swung open, the sound of it slamming accompanying Steve's voice. "Hey, where's Soda? He was supposed to meet me and-"_

_ Darry looked toward Steve, noticing his expression change to one of bewilderment, his eyes questioning the state of the older boy's appearance, before the words even left his mouth. "Darry, why the hell do you look like that?"_

_ Darry spoke to his middle brother's best friend, giving up on trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "Our parents, Steve."_

_ "What about them?"_

_ "They're gone."_

_ "What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean gone?"_

_ Darry bowed his head, his chest heavy with the weight of knowing he'd never see his mom and dad again, knowing they weren't just going to come home and walk through the front door to greet their three sons. "Dead. They're dead. Car accident."_

_ Steve only stared at Darry for a second, before his eyes darted around, searching. "Where's Soda? Tell me. Where is he?"_

_ "His room. Pony's in there too."_

_ Steve walked away from Darry, his pace one of urgency. He stopped outside Soda's closed door, Pony's small voice making him hesitate. "What's going to happen to us, Soda?"_

_ Steve lifted his hand to the door knob, about to turn it, as he heard Soda's reply. "We'll be okay, Pony. I promise."_

_ Before either of them could speak again, Steve pushed the door open, looking inside to see Pony clinging to Soda. He met his best friend's eyes, the sadness reflected in them something he'd never seen in him before._

_ Soda hugged Pony, as Steve silently sat down on his other side, his hand squeezing his shoulder. "Don't worry, little brother. Me and Darry are going to take care of you."_

* * *

Soda wandered inside the station when he heard the phone ringing, seeing Mr. Coleman pick it up and listen for a few moments, before speaking. "Okay. That's fine, Steve. Don't worry about it." He listened once more, then held the phone out to Soda. "It's Steve. He wants to talk to you for a second."

Soda took the receiver, pressing it to his ear. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Steve's voice came through the line. "I just wanted to tell you not to worry. I told Mr. Coleman I don't feel good, and I'm going home. It's the truth, I promise. Got it?"

"I got it. I'll see you later then. Get some rest, buddy."

* * *

_Steve sat up in bed, feeling as if he'd just closed his eyes, though the sky told him it was early morning. He heard the sound of banging coming from across the house and got up, intent on making it stop. "What the hell is that?"_

_ Nicholas, not the heavy sleeper he used to be, met Steve out in the hallway. "Is someone at the door?"_

_ "Sounds like it, Dad." Steve made his way to the front of the house, the banging not ceasing. He looked outside, seeing Soda there on the porch. "What is he doing here right now?"_

_ Just as Soda raised his fist to hit the door again, Steve appeared in front of him. "You have to help me find Pony, man!"_

_ Steve pulled Soda into the house, noticing his dad was still right behind him. "What do you mean? Where is he?"_

_ Soda ran a hand through his hair, his sleepy eyes and tear-stained face the visible signs of the night he'd had. "I don't know! That's why I have to find him! Before he gets jumped or killed or-"_

_ Steve interrupted Soda, confusion mixing with concern. "Slow down! What happened?"_

_ Soda gripped Steve's arm, almost shaking him. "Come on, Stevie. Let's go. I need your help. Darry's a mess and-"_

_ Nicholas, already beginning to ache for the version of relief he found in a bottle, intervened. "Sodapop! You've got to calm down. What the hell is going on?"_

_ Soda fought the tears forming again in his eyes, the stress and fear now just as real as the grief when the Curtis parents died. "Pony came home late and got in a fight with Darry. He ran out after Darry slapped him."_

_ Steve let out a heavy breath, admittedly relieved that Soda didn't tell him worse news had brought him over this early in the morning. "Listen, Soda. He'll be back. The way those two go at it, he probably just needed to cool off."_

_ Soda shook his head, a few tears slipping down his face. "But it's been hours, Steve! What if something happened to him? Pony already thinks Darry doesn't love him. What if he doesn't even want to come back?"_

_ Steve attempted to keep from rolling his eyes at the idea that Darry didn't love Pony, focusing instead on Soda, who was in clear distress. "He'll come back, buddy. I'll help you look though. You know I will."_

* * *

Nicholas saw Steve's car in the driveway, as he pulled up. "He's home early." He parked his own car and stepped out of it, slamming the door closed, before going toward the house. He tossed his keys on the counter, then glanced into the living room, finding the TV on and his son lying on the couch, facing away from the screen.

Nicholas perched on the edge of the couch, unable to stop himself from feeling Steve's head to check for any sign of warmth. Even so, he knew his son's state of being unwell didn't have such a simple explanation.

Steve's eyes opened only enough to see Nicholas, before they closed again, his voice mumbling, as he buried his face in the cushion where he lie. "I don't have a fever, Dad."

"How long have you been here, Son?"

"Not long. I came home after school was over. Don't worry. I didn't think about doing anything else."

"Okay."

"Just wanted to sleep. That's all."

"That's fine. You can sleep." Nicholas got to his feet and went to Steve's room, easily finding Rose's quilt. He went back to where his son was resting and laid it over him, remembering the scriptural reminder embroidered into the material without even having to look at the letters.

"Wish I could stop thinking about it."

Nicholas tucked the quilt closer to Steve, asking the question, even though he believed he knew what his son likely meant. "About what?"

There was a beat of silence long enough to make Nicholas think Steve had fallen completely asleep, but then he spoke again. "I miss Mom."

Nicholas sat back down on the edge of the couch, his hand reaching to rub Steve's shoulder that was covered by the quilt. "Me too. Everyday."

"I know she loved me."

"She did. Very much."

There was another beat of silence, longer than the last, and Nicholas started to stand up, leaving Steve to his slumber, but his son's voice interrupted the action. "I never wanted to do anything like that, Dad."

"Anything like what?"

Steve's head sank further into the couch cushion, as he didn't respond to Nicholas' question.

"Just rest, Son. We'll talk when you wake up."

* * *

_TwoBit paced the Curtis' living room, his switchblade burning a hole in his pocket. "You know what? If they're in Texas, then we'll just go, right? I know it's a big state, but-"_

_ Steve stepped in front of TwoBit, putting a halt to his rant and his feet. "Are you kidding me, man? They're not in Texas! When does Dallas ever tell the truth to the fuzz?"_

_ Soda piped up from behind Steve. "Then, where could they be? They're just kids, and it had to be fuckin' self-defense!"_

_ Darry came inside then, his shirt soaked in sweat. "But it'll be a miracle if they see it that way, and Pony and Johnny know it, little buddy."_

_ Soda sat down on the couch, his eyes on his big brother, pleading with him for answers he didn't have. "Darry, it's been three days. I can't take it anymore."_

_ Darry took a seat beside Soda, his muscles aching from tension and the physical exertion of his job. "I know. I'm sorry, Sodapop. It's my fault. If I hadn't hit him-"_

_ Steve cut him off. "Quit it, Superman! Soda told me how the kid was mouthing off at you. You had every right to be hacked off at him for coming home at 2:00 in the damn morning. It ain't like you beat him black and blue, man."_

_ Soda stood to his feet, pacing where TwoBit had been before. "I should've just kept my mouth shut. I mean, I was worried too. It's just that I always know where you're both coming from, Dar."_

_ TwoBit took his switchblade out, eyeing the handle. "You were both worried. Besides, it ain't your fault the Socs were mad about us talking to their girls." He pocketed the blade, heading toward the door. "Speaking of, I got somewhere to be."_

_ Steve turned back to Soda and Darry. "He's right about that. Shit happens, but you guys didn't make that damn jerk of a Soc get stabbed. Sounds like he did that all on his own."_

* * *

Soda plopped down on the floor beside the couch, where Steve had been sleeping since he got here. He opened the can of Pepsi in his hand, looking at his best friend, then back at the TV screen.

Steve opened one eye to see Soda next to him, sipping a drink. He closed it again, mumbling the first thought in his mind. "I miss them, man. I miss all of them."

"Who, Stevie?"

"Johnny and Dallas."

"I know, buddy. We all do."

"And your mom and dad."

Soda reached for Steve's arm, holding on just above his wrist. "I do too."

"I'll never forget it, Soda. Seeing Dal get shot down."

"I haven't heard you talk about that since right after it happened."

"Or Pony dropping like a ton of lead in the middle of the street."

"I've never heard you talk about that at all." Soda waited a moment, before speaking again. "Hey, buddy, open your eyes."

Steve did, his gaze moving to Soda. "Why?"

"Cause I know you're awake, and you don't have to hide from me."

Steve sat up, Rose's quilt still wrapped around his lap. "That's not what I was doing."

Soda lifted himself up to sit next to Steve and put his Pepsi on the end table. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You forget how well I know you, man."

"Hey, Soda?"

"I'm listening."

"I know it did then and right after, but does it all ever still bother you?"

"Yeah. It does. You remember how I was when Pony and Johnny were gone. Glory, I was scared too after Johnny and Dal died and Pony was so sick. I didn't know what else might happen."

"Me neither." Steve laid his head against the back of the couch. "I know I wasn't even there when Johnny died, but it's still like I can picture it, you know?"

"Sure, buddy. I know exactly what you mean."

"And Dal... I wonder what would've made him want to live."

"I don't think he believed he had anything without Johnny, and he wanted us to know it."

"But he still had us."

"He just couldn't take it, man."

"I get it. He was hurting and needed a way out of it."

"Yeah. He knew the fuzz would shoot him, and it only took a second to make a decision he couldn't take back."

"You said that to me before. When I first told you I ever felt like hurting myself."

"I remember. Cause I thought of Dally then. You asked if it all ever still bothers me. When I first got real scared about you feeling like that, it was worse cause of Johnny and Dally and my parents too. Because I already know how it feels to lose someone, and I can't imagine going through it again." Soda saw Steve lift his head up, his eyes closing again. He put a hand on his shoulder. "I ain't saying that to make you feel bad either, so please don't, Stevie."

"I know you're not. I can't imagine it either." Steve leaned his head on Soda's shoulder. "I still don't feel good. But I can't explain it. I just feel bad all over."

* * *

_Steve scowled at Nicholas, the frown on his face one that seemed permanent, as of four days ago. "What the hell do you expect, Dad? It not to bother me?"_

_ Nicholas looked down at the days old newspaper on the kitchen table, the article about a dead teen named Bob Sheldon staring back up at him. "No, Son. Of course not. I just don't want to have to worry about you."_

_ "Well, then don't. Not like you have before."_

_ "Steve, I just want to know you're doing okay. Is that too much to ask?"_

_ "And what if I'm not? Forgive me for not knowing you give a damn."_

_ "Hey! Of course I do! You're my son."_

_ "So then maybe you should understand these are my buddies we're talking about here! Johnny is a damn good friend and a good kid, and I can't imagine him killing anyone. Ponyboy either. And sure, I ain't crazy about the kid. But he's Soda's little brother, so that's all that matters to me."_

_ "Okay. I hear you. I'm only saying take care of yourself too."_

_ "That's what I'm doing, Dad. That's why I came home cause there's some stuff I just can't say to Soda right now. He doesn't need to hear how worried I am that social services is going to throw him and Pony both in a boy's home as soon as the kid shows his face again."_

_ "Oh, Son, that's not-"_

_ "No! Don't say anything else, Dad. You can't make it better, so please don't even try."_

_ "All right. I'll drop it then, Son. But don't go thinking I don't care. I promise I do."_

* * *

Nicholas sighed, both hands covering his face, as he leaned against Samuel's car that was parked in his driveway. "I can't help it. I'm worried about him. I'm worried I shouldn't have let him know all of that."

Samuel stood beside Nicholas, his friend's words from when he'd been so conflicted about what to tell Steve coming back to him. "But like you said, It's his past too."

"I know. That's what I said to Grace too when I told her she could tell him whatever he wanted to know. I'm just afraid it was a mistake."

"You didn't tell me much on the phone. How was Steve after they talked?"

"Just sad, and he kept saying how that's a terrible way to die. This morning, I could've sworn he looked sick. And after he came home from school, he just wanted to sleep. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"It sounds like he's just exhausted. Has he said anything else?"

"When he was half asleep earlier, he told me he can't stop thinking about it. I'm pretty sure I know what he meant by that."

"He'll get through it, Nicholas. He's strong, and he knows you're here for him."

"Before he fell back asleep on me, he said he never wanted to do anything like that. I think he means he hasn't wanted to cut himself and bleed to death, like Clara did. I know the guilt he feels has been worse since he hurt himself. Even though she didn't care about anyone as far as I can see, Steve wanted so much for her to care about him, and he feels bad for her. He asked Grace if Clara was sad and if she mentioned him or if she said anything about hurting herself. I can't say this to Steve, but I hate that."

"What you hate is that Clara abused him, and she doesn't deserve his sympathy."

"Or his empathy. Please don't get me wrong. I told Steve it's okay to care, and it is. I just don't want him to care so much, it makes him hurt more, thinking it's his fault or that she's part of him at all."

"I understand. He doesn't just care, he feels responsible, and it affects how he sees himself."

"I hate it for him that he can think of his pain as being anything like hers. He tried to kill himself because of the memories of what _she _did to him and how she made him feel. She abused my son, and I can't even think about it without just believing she deserved to hurt. She deserved to feel so bad, she wanted to die. It's her fault, and I don't feel sorry for her at all."

* * *

_Steve picked up the newspaper on the Curtis' coffee table, the headline one that made him roll his eyes at the very thought. "Ponyboy and Johnnycake hoods? Yeah, right." He set the paper back down, hearing the youngest Curtis and TwoBit goofing off on the back porch. "Hey, Sodapop! Aren't you done getting dressed yet? We're going to be late, man."_

_ Steve wandered down the hall to Soda's bedroom. The door was open, and he saw his friend standing beside the dresser, facing away from him. "Hey, Soda? You ready to go?"_

_ Soda put his DX cap on his head, still not turning to face Steve, his voice thick when he spoke. "Sure, man."_

_ Steve shut the door and drew closer, noticing Soda's shoulders begin to shake. "Buddy, you don't have to keep it together for me. You know you don't."_

_ "I know. But Pony's home. So I should be fine now, right? I cried all week. It's time to stop."_

_ Steve came to stand beside Soda. "You've had it rough, man. I know you're hurting."_

_ "What if they think Darry's not a good guardian? What if they want to put us in a boy's home?"_

_ Steve wrapped an arm around Soda's shoulders, his voice firm, as he met his friend's tear-filled eyes. "Hey, you listen to me now. You guys ain't going anywhere. Pony's a good kid. What happened ain't his fault, and Darry's done the best he can."_

_ "Johnny saved his life, Stevie. They were drowning him."_

_ "Then, they both saved those little kids. Dal did too. They're not going to take Pony from his family, man. Not after that."_

_ "That doctor's wrong. He has to be. It wouldn't be right."_

_ "What doctor? What do you mean?"_

_ He said Johnny wouldn't walk again if he even lives."_

_ "If?"_

_ "Yeah. But that can't be right. He doesn't know how tough Johnnycake is."_

_ "You're right, buddy. Kid's a hero. He can't die on us now."_

* * *

Steve zipped up his jacket, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, as he slowly made his way down the sidewalk. He moved without direction or purpose, his feet carrying him along the concrete path that only led into the darkness of late evening. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air to counter the stale scent of death that continued to assail his pained senses.

Steve was merely halfway around the block when he stopped, his feet pausing at the end of a street. He stood next to a STOP sign, just as a car passed through the intersection, making a left turn. To his right was a street lamp, the glow of it making his shadow appear on the sidewalk.

Steve remained there for a few moments, his body fatigued, despite the amount of sleep, his mind nearly numb even though the flow of emotions rushed like water that couldn't be controlled. He rubbed at his eyes, the desire to escape in slumber still there, even if it wasn't as strong.

Steve moved forward, going back in the direction of his house. His shadow on the sidewalk moved along with him, as it got smaller and smaller, before it disappeared altogether. He didn't look up, only keeping his eyes and focus on the steps he was taking, as he prayed silently. His lips didn't even move, believing the only one he needed to listen to him didn't have to hear a voice or see an outward action to receive the request for intercession.

Steve walked toward his home, seeing the porch light his dad had left on for him shining in the night. He went across the front yard, then up the steps of the porch, his distress mostly relieved by the stroll that reminded him he could never be alone.

He stepped inside the house, turning the porch light off, as the door swung shut behind him. "I'm back, Dad."

Nicholas put aside the Bible in his lap, the green ribbon bookmark in 1 Kings, as it had been before. "All right, Son. Are you okay?"

Steve nodded, blinking back the hint of tears in his eyes, as he swallowed whole the emotion that he believed might choke him if he tried to speak over it. He sat down beside Nicholas, his gaze landing on the words in the Bible passage his dad had been reading. "What's that about? I mean, I know it's about God and stuff, but what else?"

Nicholas eyed the scripture that told the story of Elijah, one that had helped him when he first knew the thoughts going through his own son's mind. "It's about a man named Elijah. I don't understand all of it, but he was really scared, and he ran away."

"Oh. So what happened to him?"

"He prayed because he was upset and sad and" Nicholas looked at Elijah's prayer, then at Steve. "Son, it helped me to read this a while ago because I think he felt like you have."

"What do you mean?"

Nicholas closed the Bible, the verses tucked into his heart where he could remember them without reading the pages. "He asked God to let him die. He didn't want go on anymore."

Steve couldn't stop his eyes from widening, his own prayer the day he'd overdosed fresh in his store of memories. "Oh. So what happened after that?"

"He went to sleep, and an angel came twice to bring him food. After he'd rested a while, he finished the journey to this mountain."

"I did that too, Dad."

"Did what?"

"I asked God to take me. Just like Elijah. In my car before I took the pills. I know he heard, but I'm glad he didn't listen to me."

* * *

_TwoBit took a swig of his beer. "I'm serious, man. He got so worked up, he passed out. I don't understand why his old lady had to show up. She ain't been there for him before anyway."_

_ Steve sighed, puffing on a cigarette. "Damn right. Johnny's got us. He doesn't need her. How was Dal?"_

_ "His usual ornery self. Pissed off he's in the hospital, and he's going to miss the rumble. You know him though. It ain't really that. He's just not about to admit he's worried about Johnny."_

_ "Yeah. He didn't run into that burning church for those little kids. Soda told me what the doctor said about Johnny. You saw him, man. What did you think?"_

_ "He looks bad, Steve. He's in a hell of a lot of pain. I hated seeing him like that. His so called mother coming by just made it worse."_

_ "Damn. I'll have to go see him tomorrow and take Soda with me too. He's good with Johnny."_

_ "Man, Soda's good with everyone. I think Darry would've gone totally out of his mind this past week without him."_

_ "That's true. Pony seem all right to you?"_

_ "Never thought I'd see the day you asked after the kid?"_

_ "You know it's different now, TwoBit. Yeah, he's a tag along and all, but I ain't as big of a jerk as he thinks I am. Besides, I want Soda to be okay."_

_ "Yeah, I dig. Pony seems all right, really. I think he should take it easy for a while though. He's a tough kid, but he's been through an awful lot just this week with all that happened in the park and then Windrixville. Then, with Johnny now too... I can't imagine our gang without him. I don't want to."_

_ "I know what you mean. I don't either. But I think Dally would really lose it without Johnny. He might think he can take anything, but he's human, just like the rest of us."_

* * *

Steve tried to drown in the vengeful silence of quiet contemplation, his mind's wanderings now growing much more familiar. His thoughts showed him no mercy, as his heart beat at a speed that alarmed him.

So engrossed in the memories, both real and constructed, that moved along in his head at a pace equal to that of a train going off the tracks, Steve bumped into another student in the courtyard, as he was passing by. "Oh, sorry."

He started to keep walking, his feet still moving, even when a voice cut into his thoughts. "Hey, watch it, Greaser!"

Steve didn't turn around or speak a word until another voice joined, that of a Soc he knew was named Wesley. "No wonder that chick cheated on him. He probably couldn't keep his head in the game, if you get my drift."

Steve didn't hesitate in spinning around and pushing Wesley into the courtyard's fence, both fists pinning him hard against the cold metal. "You shut your mouth. You don't know a damn thing about what you're saying."

Wesley stared at Steve's clenched jaw, his face just inches in front of his own. "You better let go of me if you know what's good for you, Randle."

Before Steve could utter a reply, Mr. Johnson's voice came from across the courtyard. "Hey! Break it up, you two. I don't care who started what, but you can punch each other's lights out on your own time."

Steve hesitantly released Wesley, but his eyes didn't leave his face. "Don't say another word about my business or about Evie, unless you want to be picking your teeth up off the ground."

Wesley straightened out his shirt, then crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk on his face. "Oh, yeah, Grease?"

Steve resisted the urge to erase Wesley's smirk with his fist, seeing Mr. Johnson still watching. "Yeah. But, you see, I ain't got time for you right now. Unlike you, I actually have a life."

* * *

_Nicholas stepped onto the front porch, not expecting to see Steve there. "Hey, Son, I thought you were still at Soda's." He noticed the bruises on his son's face and the way he was hunched over. "You been in a fight?"_

_ Steve looked down at his knuckles that were busted up, before clutching his side, the pain in his body now a reminder of his friends' fates. "Yeah. But it doesn't matter. Look where it got us."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "He's dead, Dad. They're both dead."_

_ Nicholas sat down beside Steve, placing a tentative hand on his back. "Who, Steve?"_

_ "Johnny and Dallas. I saw it. We all saw Dal get shot. He robbed a store, then he pointed a gun at the cops, and they killed him."_

_ "Son, I'm sorry. So sorry."_

_ "And Ponyboy passed out. I think he's real sick."_

_ Nicholas saw Steve lean forward more, his body tense. "Are you in pain?"_

_ Steve nodded, the tears in his eyes beginning to roll down his cheeks. "Broken ribs."_

_ "Do you need to get checked out?"_

_ "No. Darry wrapped them for me. I'm fine."_

_ Nicholas stared at Steve, the grief he was experiencing clear in more than just the tears on his cheeks. "Can I do anything, Son?"_

_ "No, Dad. You can't."_

_ Nicholas, striving to be gentle, hugged Steve, feeling his son lean into him. "I'm so sorry about your friends."_

_ "I can't believe it. I can't believe they're gone. Soda and Darry went with Pony to the hospital. If he's not okay..."_

_ "He will be."_

_ "Soda will go crazy. He loves that kid."_

_ "You guys just stick together, like you always do."_

_ "Dad, I saw it. Did you hear me say I saw it? Dally died in front of us. They didn't even care he was just a kid. The gun wasn't loaded."_

_ "I did hear you, Son. I hate you had to see that."_

_ "Dally and Pony saw Johnny die. No wonder Dal lost it."_

_ "It's going to be all right."_

_ Steve pulled away from Nicholas. "But it's not all right now." He stood up, wincing at the pain in his side. "I need to go back to Soda's. I can't sit here all night when I don't know what else is happening. They have to come home sometime."_

_ "Son, it might be better for you to be home. You're hurt."_

_ "I don't care about that. We've all had broken ribs and shit. It's not a big deal after the rest of what happened tonight. I'll live."_

* * *

Soda tightened the last bolt, before rolling out from underneath the car. "Damn. All that just because you bumped into him. That's crazy, man."

Steve opened up a drawer, searching for a pen. "I know. I wanted to hit him too. What makes it so bad is what he said is kind of true."

"Aw, Stevie, don't say that. You know it ain't that simple."

Steve scribbled his signature on the bottom sheet of a stack of paper. "Maybe not. But I mean, he's a jerk who doesn't know what he's saying and still managed to strike a nerve. I really hate that."

"I don't blame you one bit. If I'd been there, I would've punched him for you."

* * *

_ Steve had just dozed off on the Curtis' couch when he heard the sound of Soda's voice. "We could've stayed, Dar! He's just a kid. Not like I'm going to sleep anyway." _

_ Steve slowly sat up, hearing Darry's reply. "No, we couldn't, little buddy. It's late. Pony's just resting. That's what you need too."_

_ Steve got to his feet, coming in view of the brothers, right after Darry pulled Soda into a hug._

_ Soda held onto his big brother, noticing the presence of his best friend. "Hey, Stevie."_

_Darry spoke again, not letting go of Soda just yet. "I shouldn't have let Pony fight, but he's going to be all right, Pepsi Cola. He's in shock and he's sick, but he'll be okay."_

_ Soda hid his face in Darry's shoulder. "That damn Soc kicked him in the head. I could've killed that guy."_

_ Steve backed away, sitting down on the arm of the couch, watching both of his buddies and able to see the bruises that matched his own._

_ As Darry pulled away from his middle brother, he met Steve's eyes for a moment, then turned back to Soda. "I'm going to go in my room, kiddo. Just come in if you need me. I ain't counting on sleeping much either."_

_ Steve felt Darry's hand on his shoulder and turned to look at him, able to swear he could see tears in his eyes that were just on the verge of falling. "I hope it's okay I'm here."_

_ Darry shook his head. "Of course it's okay. I pretty much expected it after..." He trailed off, glancing back at Soda. "Have you seen TwoBit?"_

_ Steve thought of his other buddy and his demeanor at the scene of Dallas' death after Ponyboy passed out. "No. Not since after Dal- He probably went to have a drink."_

_ Soda sat down on the couch, tracing his fingers over a bruise just below his eye. "Probably. Can't blame him."_

_ Steve saw Darry disappear into his bedroom, then slid down to sit next to Soda. "So Pony's just sleeping?"_

_ Soda heaved a deep breath. "Yeah. He's exhausted, and he's got a concussion. Darry keeps telling me he's going to be okay, but I'm scared, man. He kinda wakes up and asks for us and Mom and Dad and even Johnny and-" His eyes blinked, before they closed tightly. "Oh."_

_ "It doesn't feel real, does it? I was telling my dad, and I kept thinking it can't be right."_

_ "I kinda forgot for a while cause of Pony. How could I do that, Steve?"_

_ "You didn't forget. It just hurts too much and Pony needed you."_

_ "I didn't believe Johnny would die, and I sure never thought Dal would do that."_

_ "Me neither. I was going to go see Johnny tomorrow. I should've done it today. Screw the damn rumble."_

_ "You didn't really believe he'd die either, buddy. But I wish I'd seen him too. They wouldn't let us last night."_

_ "Dal was still just a kid, Soda. But I bet they wanted to kill him."_

_ "And he was counting on that. I can't believe Johnny saved Pony, and now, he's dead. It ain't right." Soda looked over at Steve, seeing he was trying and failing to hold back tears. "You told me I don't have to keep it together for you."_

_ Before Steve could reply, he felt Soda's arms wrap carefully around him. He heard his best friend crying too, as he hugged him back. "They were our buddies. I can't believe they're gone."_


	44. Chapter 44

_ Jesse looked over at his daughter, her beauty misleading in the same way the glowing orange flames of fire are deceptive. They drew attention, drew people in, before they sparked and created a burning flash of pain._

_ Clara looked at him, her eyes no longer filled with the tears that would make the coldest heart feel sorry for her. "Tell me where they went. I have a right to know."_

_ Jesse shook his head. "No. You don't, Clara. You lost any rights you had."_

_ "You don't know anything. He's my child. It's a wonder I could know how to be a good mother growing up the way I did, but I am."_

_ "If that's really what you believe, your mother and I failed you even more than I thought."_

* * *

Steve spoke to Dr. Reynolds, his mind grounded as firmly in the present as it could be. "I think I'm doing okay. I mean, I have some stuff I need to get around to talking about, but..." He trailed off, looking down at his lap, the conversation with Grace seeming like it had happened much longer ago.

Dr. Reynolds nodded, tapping his pen on the clipboard he held. "But what?"

"I'm not ready yet, I guess."

"Is everything going all right with school and your daily routine?"

Steve shrugged, sighing. "Yeah. I guess it's all right. I've been distracted."

"Do you mean you have a hard time concentrating?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

"How is your energy level?"

"Not great, but better than earlier this week. I slept a lot for a couple days. I just wanted to."

"Was there anything going on with you earlier this week that you believe contributed to that?"

Steve's eyes moved up to Dr. Reynolds, before dropping back down to his feet. "Yeah. I think so. I found out something else about my past. Well, more about what I've told you before anyway."

"Is that what you mean you're not ready to talk about yet?"

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I have a little bit, but not too much."

"Okay. So without having to go into exactly why, can you tell me how you've been feeling? Sad? Anxious?"

"Both of those."

"I'm going to be more direct than I usually am, Steve, because of what you've said so far. Have you been feeling hopeless?"

Steve looked up then, his gaze meeting that of the doctor he'd grown to trust, despite the circumstances that had brought him into this office. "No. I don't feel like that at all."

"All right. That's good. I'm glad to hear that. What about the way you see yourself? Do you ever feel worthless?"

"Man, you are being real direct. No. Not that either. I don't always feel great about myself, but no. I've been sad and tired and thinking too much. That's all."

"Do you think it'll help you if you can talk about the rest of what you found out earlier this week?"

"Yeah. I do. But I just don't have the words yet."

* * *

_Steve peeked into the Curtis' front yard, finding TwoBit there on the porch. "Hey, man, where you been?"_

_ TwoBit looked up at Steve, his expression holding a seriousness none of the gang were used to. "Nowhere. Just around."_

_ Steve joined his friend outside, noticing the tears that stained his face. "Darry was wondering about you. We all were."_

_ "Didn't think they'd want to see me. I screwed up, man. You have no idea."_

_ "What are you talking about?"_

_ "I knew Ponyboy was sick. He was running a fever before the rumble. I should've told Darry. He made me promise not to and now..."_

_ Steve stared at TwoBit, the guilt clear in his face and his words. "The kid's okay, TwoBit. He's sick, yeah, and he's got a concussion, but he's going to be all right."_

_ TwoBit's voice cracked, as he spoke, more tears welling in his eyes. "He's really okay? We're not going to lose him too? Man, I told Pony we could make it without anyone but Johnny, but I didn't mean it like that."_

_ "Aw, he knows you didn't. It's not your fault." Steve wrapped an arm over TwoBit's shoulders, squeezing. "You didn't know he was going to pass out. Besides, it wasn't just from being sick. He's in shock too. Me and the kid don't exactly see eye to eye much, but I can dig that."_

_ "Shock, huh? I think I've been in that too. Maybe still am."_

_ "That's what me and Soda were talking about earlier pretty much. Just how we can't believe Johnny and Dal are gone."_

_ "I know I should've been here sooner. I just didn't know how to deal and didn't want Darry to beat my head in for not telling him the truth."_

_ "I think the kid would've done what he wanted either way. He's stubborn. But Superman feels bad himself for letting him fight. I don't think he's looking to blame anybody though. He ain't going to hurt you, buddy."_

* * *

Steve didn't find solace in the silence of the sanctuary. The seeming emptiness of it only made him long to speak, to fill the hollow room with a sound, even if only a prayer. "God, I don't know what I'm supposed to say. This feels weird."

Steve knew Samuel was there somewhere in the church, but he felt a pull to stay where he was. He sat on the side of the altar, the stained glass windows in front of him creating the vision of the lighted cross. He saw the glow reflected on the carpet near the first row of pews, his gaze then drawn to the piano on the other side of the podium.

Steve stood and made his way over to the instrument, remembering the last time he'd sat on a piano bench. "Seems so strange now, God. I didn't even want to see those hymns or think about you. And now, here I am in a church." He pressed one of the white keys, a high note coming from the piano. "I'm sorry I was like that. I was just hurt, but I guess you already know all about it."

Steve played a few more notes, his finger pressing one key, then another. "At least it's not so quiet in here now."

Samuel's voice came from across the sanctuary. "Hi, Steve. What brings you here?"

"I thought maybe you guys were onto something. You, my dad, Soda too."

Samuel nodded toward the piano, setting the Bible he held down on a pew. "You know how to play?"

"Not really. A little bit, I guess. My mom used to play when I was a little kid."

"So _are _we onto something?"

Steve stood up and looked back toward the altar where he'd been sitting before, his eyes going up to the stained glass windows. "Maybe. I've kind of been praying anywhere, so it felt weird to come here for that." He stepped down off the stage, then went to sit on the front row of pews. "I guess I knew you'd be here too though. And you said if we needed you..."

Samuel smiled softly, as he sat down beside Steve, seeing him look down at the same time he trailed off. "Yes. I did say that."

"Is my dad worried about me? Not that he ever stops, but I mean, like because of this week?"

"He is. When I talked to him, he didn't seem too sure about how you were doing."

_ "_Yeah. I'm not too sure about it either. I wonder if I'm just afraid to, but you'd think it wouldn't be hard for me to talk about anything anymore."

"What is it that's hard to talk about?"

"What Grace told me. I can't put it into words, but I can't stop thinking about Clara and how-" Steve closed his eyes, noticing his heart begin to beat faster. "I wasn't even there, but I keep seeing it."

Samuel put a hand on Steve's back, leaning so he could see his face. "Hey, that sounds like a start to me."

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Cause you know what happened to her."

"I do. I can understand how it would bother you, Steve."

"I don't want it to though. She didn't care about me. I don't want to care how much she must've hurt or how it must have felt to-" Steve felt tears in his eyes, unable to blink them back. "I'm sorry that Grace had to see it."

Samuel, though uncertain about the action, wrapped his arm around Steve. When the boy leaned into him, the acceptance of affection brought tears to his eyes. "Me too."

"I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, but I never wanted to do what she did. I hurt myself too, but I never even thought..."

"Hey, listen to me. What you did and what Clara did are completely different. She betrayed you in the worst way possible, then she got caught. Her own actions caused her suffering. You didn't do anything wrong to hurt like you have."

"It's still hard to think about someone doing that to themselves. Sometimes, I think my dad was right about me not needing this in my head."

"So what about the rest of the time?"

"I don't know. I mean, I know what happened now. It can't be my fault. I wasn't there, and I didn't-" Steve turned his face into Samuel's shoulder, his voice breaking, as more tears fell. "I thought I forgot how to cry."

Samuel eased his other arm around Steve, drawing him into an embrace. "It's okay. And believe me, I know guilt isn't always logical."

Steve let himself lean into the hug for several moments, before pulling away. "Sorry. I don't mean to cry all over you." He looked away from Samuel. "You didn't come here for this."

"So what did I come here for then?"

"I don't know. Maybe you were working on a sermon or something."

"All right. You got me. I did that too, but that's not all it's about, you know."

"It's not all what's about?"

"Being a preacher."

"So what's it about then?"

"Being there. Even just to listen. Doing what I can to help."

"Oh."

"God didn't bring me through what he has just so I can stand in a podium or sit in a pew on Sunday. He's a lot bigger than that."

* * *

_Steve watched Soda storm out to the back porch, slamming the door behind him. He looked at Darry, who had just come out of Pony's room. "What the hell was that about?"_

_ Darry sighed, a hand rubbing his head, as he sank down onto the couch. "He's worried about Pony, but I think it's not just that. It's Sandy."_

_ "What about Sandy? Didn't Soda take her out last night?"_

_ "Yeah. He did. But it's over. She told him she's going to Florida."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Soda wants to marry her anyway. Maybe I'm terrible, but I'm glad she said no. He's too young, and if she did this to him now, what would she be like-"_

_ "Wait. Did what to him? Tell me she didn't, Darry. She was supposed to be better than that. He believed she was better than that."_

_ "She's pregnant, and the baby's not his."_

_ "Damn it." Steve looked out the window at his best friend. "And this has to happen now? What the hell's the matter with her cheating on someone like Sodapop? That's the last thing he deserves. But of course, he would marry her anyway! I'm with you on that, man. He doesn't need to get hitched at sixteen, especially not with her."_

_ "He's heartbroken, but I guess she doesn't love him. Not like he loves her anyway."_

_ "You know what? That's just fine." Steve lowered his voice, as he started to open the back door, speaking so only Darry would hear him. "He doesn't need her then. He's got us. Maybe we ain't much of a gang anymore, but we're loyal as they come."_

* * *

Soda tossed a rock into the pond, the water rippling, before it settled once again. He didn't see the Frisbee coming toward him. It spun through the air, before bouncing off his head. "Ouch."

Steve chuckled from several feet away. "Watch out, man."

Soda picked the Frisbee up, throwing it back to Steve. "What are you doing out here?"

Steve caught and held the Frisbee, coming to stand next to Soda. "Darry told me you were here. I just wanted to hang out, I guess. I kind of just took Samuel up on what he said on Sunday."

"What did he say?"

"That he'd be there if we needed him. So I talked to him for a little bit."

"Oh." Soda sat down on the grass, picking up another rock. "You okay?"

Steve looked down at the Frisbee he held, then at the pond, as he sat down beside Soda. "I'm not sure, but I guess so. I didn't say that much, but it was something."

Soda rolled the rock from one hand to the other. "Samuel's a good guy to talk to."

"Yeah, and there's some stuff I'm not sure about saying to my dad right now. He was freaking himself out worrying about me. I don't want to see him like that again."

"Like what?"

"He was driving himself crazy thinking too much and doing whatever he could around the house. Like cleaning and stuff like that. Then, he just cried a lot and told me he couldn't be strong anymore." Steve picked up a rock and threw it, watching as it hit the water. "It's my turn to be strong for him now."

* * *

_Steve knocked on Pony and Soda's door, seeing the youngest Curtis was awake, though Soda still slept soundly next to him." Hey, Kid."  
_

_Pony picked up the bowl of soup Darry had left for him, stirring it with the spoon. "Hey."_

_ "How are you feeling?"_

_ "All right, I guess. Still really tired though. Darry told me how I passed out and stuff. I don't really remember much." Pony looked at his sleeping brother. "I guess I scared Soda, huh? And Darry too?"_

_ Steve sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Yeah. You scared all of us, if you want to know the truth, Kid."_

_ "You? Scared?"  
_

_Steve rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath. "Just don't tell anyone I said it."_

_ "I won't." Pony took a bite of the soup, closing his eyes, as the warm broth went down his throat and the memories of days past continued to come back to him, combining with worry over the future._

_ "Hey, you okay, Kid? You look like you should lie back down or something."_

_ Pony looked down at the soup, before setting it back on the bedside table. "Maybe I'm just not that hungry."_

_ "You get some more rest. We don't need you keeling over again. I'll sit here a minute. Maybe til Soda wakes up."_

_ Pony lie back on his pillow. "I never thought I'd see it."_

_ "See what?"  
_

_"The day Steve Randle cared."_

_ "Yeah. Well, just don't tell anyone that either."_

* * *

Nicholas saw Steve in the living room with a textbook open on his lap. "You going to eat with me, Son?"

Steve looked down at the two sheets of paper on top of his science textbook, a hand rubbing his eyes. "Man, I know this stuff. It shouldn't be a big deal. Sure, Dad, just give me a few minutes."

"You having a hard time with something?"

"I was, but not too sure about now. It's just been a weird few days." Steve closed the textbook, leaving the sheets of paper inside. "Maybe I'm trying too hard."

Nicholas handed Steve a plate of chicken and vegetables, then sat down beside him, his own plate in his lap. "Just take a break then. It might help, and you can go back to it later."

Steve started eating the chicken, chewing before he spoke. "Dad, I went to the church earlier today."

"Oh?"

"It felt kind of funny to me. I don't mean in a bad way. It's just I can talk to God anywhere, you know? I didn't talk to him as much as I talked to Samuel."

Nicholas picked at his vegetables, uncertain of the feeling building within him. "That's good, Son. Did that help? I've wondered about you since Grace came over."

"I'm okay, I guess. It's hard though. I mean thinking about that kind of stuff."

"Should I not have let you know the details?"

"Don't do that to yourself. Please, Dad."

"Do what? I just want to make sure you're okay."

Steve put his fork down, making the metal and glass clang louder than necessary. "No. Stop looking for a way to blame yourself. I understand now why you kept what happened to Clara from me at first, but you didn't do anything wrong by letting me decide I wanted to talk to Grace. And yes, it's still bothering me, but that's not your fault."

Nicholas set his plate down on the coffee table, then touched Steve's shoulder. "Okay. That's really not what I was trying to do."

"Even if it's not what you mean to do, you keep blaming yourself for everything. I have all this guilt that's been there since I was a kid. I don't even understand how it all got there, but how can I ever get past it if you do the same thing to yourself?"

"Oh. I guess I hadn't thought of it like that before. I'm sorry. I don't mean-"

"Just stop, Dad. Please." Steve set his plate down beside Nicholas', as he sighed. "I know you don't mean to. You don't even have to tell me that."

"What do you want me to say then?"

"You told me once that you talked to Samuel about forgiveness because you've had a hard time blaming yourself for what happened to me."

"Yeah. I did."

"So did you ever forgive yourself?"

"I started working on it that day. It helped to talk about it and to pray. I know I felt better, just deciding I wouldn't keep blaming myself for not being able to stop it or for not handling it the right way afterward."

"So you have to decide that with everything else too, Dad. It's not your fault it happened, and you know I forgave you a while ago for not letting me talk about it because you didn't know, and you were hurting too."

"I guess I need to keep working on it, huh? So much more has happened since Samuel and I talked about that. It seems like a lifetime ago. The only thing I wanted to do is help you, and I knew I couldn't if I didn't start forgiving myself. It was like part of me thought if I could feel guilty enough, I'd be able to carry some of the pain for you, and you'd hurt less."

"Listen to me, Dad. The best thing you can do to help me is let go of blaming yourself for any of this stuff." Steve reached for Nicholas' arm and met his gaze. "But please don't just do it for me. Do it for you too."

* * *

_Steve heard voices coming from behind a partially open bedroom door down the Curtis' hallway and went closer, realizing one was Pony's, and the other was Darry's._

_ "No! Johnny's not dead." _

_ "He is, Ponyboy. I know he was your buddy, but he is dead. You were there."_

_ "No. You're wrong. And you all are wrong about me. I'm the one who killed that Soc in the park, not Johnny."_

_ "No, Pone. You didn't do that. Johnny did it to save you from drowning. I know you remember, kiddo."_

_ Steve shook his head, Pony's certainty in his denial difficult to comprehend. He looked toward the back door, seeing Soda huddled in a corner of the porch, face hidden in his lap. "Aw, shit."_

_ Steve didn't hesitate in joining his best friend, wrapping an arm around him without so much as a thought. "Hey, buddy. It's going to be all right."_

_Soda lifted his head only slightly, not bothering to wipe away the tears. "Pony's talking crazy, Stevie. Saying Johnny's not dead and that he killed the Soc."_

_ "I know. I heard him just now. But he's been through a lot. I bet he just needs some time."_

_ "What if he really believes all that though? He might not ever be the same again after all this."_

_ "Pony's going to be okay, Soda. Hell, before you know it, that kid will be tagging along, as always." When Soda didn't so much as crack a grin, only continuing to cry, Steve pulled him closer and wrapped him in a hug. "Shh. Damn, man, you're going to make me cry too."_

_ Soda didn't move his head from Steve's shoulder. "Sorry. I know we've all done enough bawlin' lately."_

_ "It's fine, buddy. You know I didn't mean it like that. I just hate seeing you hurting. That's all."_

_ "He has to be all right, Steve. I don't know what I'll do if he's not. It messed with my head hearing him say that stuff."_

_ Steve pulled away, keeping one arm around Soda. "I know. He sounds too convincing. But like I said, I bet he just needs some time."_

* * *

Steve tried to pretend he didn't see a guy talking to Evie outside Mrs. Thompson's classroom door. Can't blame her for moving on, he thought. He turned away when he saw the smile cross her face, as the guy kissed her on the cheek. Why do I think I've seen him somewhere else?

Steve started to make his way toward the cafeteria, slowing down when he saw TwoBit trying to catch up with him. "Hey, what's up, man?"

TwoBit, his typical casual answer not an honest one at the moment, grabbed Steve's elbow and pulled him out a side door.

"What gives, man? It's lunch time."

"We have to talk."

"About what?"

"Look. I don't really know what happened between you and Evie. I guess it ain't my business, but-"

"Woah. What's going on? What do me and Evie have to do with anything?"

"I heard this guy talking and he was saying you guys broke up because of um, something real personal."

"Personal? It's all pretty personal. It's our relationship, and it's not other people's business anyway."

"Damn right. But this is even more personal than that. I guess people are saying stuff about when you two were, you know, together."

"Together? We were together for a year. So what?"

"No, not together like that. _Together_ in the bedroom, man."

Steve thought of his most recent conversation with Evie and her seemingly sudden declaration that everything he'd told her was safe. He hadn't even asked her why she felt the need to tell him what he already knew. "What are they saying, TwoBit?"

"That you guys were having problems, and Evie cheated on you because of it."

Steve remembered Wesley's comment that had a grain of truth within it. "Problems, huh?"

"Yeah. Personal problems. That, uh, weren't getting better on _your_ end, if you catch what I mean."

The implications all coming together in his mind, Steve held himself upright, finding he couldn't do much else.

"You all right, man?"

"Do I look all right? None of this shit is anybody's business! And cause I know you want to ask, no, it's not true. They don't know what the hell they're talking about!"

"People are jerks, Steve-O. That's all. I'm sorry. I hated to tell you, but hearing it from me is better than from somebody else."

"She did cheat, TwoBit, but it wasn't like _that_, and it was a while ago. That's only part of the reason we broke up. Man, this stupid Soc said something the other day, and I should've realized... Why are people talking about this? About me? About her?"

"Got nothing better to do, I figure. And I think they know something's been going on with you for a while. So they're making up shit to try to fit it all together."

* * *

_Steve saw the "Dear Sandy" at the top of the paper Soda was folding up. "Why are you writing to her, man?"_

_ Soda put the letter in an envelope, sealing it before answering. "Cause I want to. I need her to know I still care about her. Maybe she'll even write me back."_

_ "I sure hope not, Sodapop."_

_ "Huh? Why would you say that, Steve? You're supposed to be my best friend!"_

_ "I am your best friend, so I have to tell you the truth. Come on, seriously, what would you have done with a wife you can't trust and a kid that ain't even yours."_

_ "Taken care of them. That's what. We could've made it work."_

_ "Sure would be fantastic timing, buddy."_

_ "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_ "It means Ponyboy's still in there trying to recover. He's been through hell. So have you and Darry. We just lost two of our friends. It ain't even been a year since you lost your parents."_

_ "What the hell are you saying? What's any of that got to do with Sandy?"_

_ Steve took the letter from Soda, noticing there was not yet a stamp on the envelope and only the start of an address. "I'm saying you can mail this if you want. I wouldn't stop you, man. But I'm glad Sandy left."_

_ Soda snatched the letter back from Steve. "What's wrong with you? Are you trying to make me mad? I hardly ever get pissed at you, Stevie, but I'm this close to-"_

_ Steve put his hand on Soda's shoulder. "Hey, calm down, buddy. Let me explain. I only say that because you've been through too much. You got all this other stuff on your mind with Pony and all, and it's hard for you to see straight. You'd jump right into marrying Sandy without even thinking about it, wouldn't you?"_

_ "I love her. Of course I would. We'd have our own little family and..."_

_ "And what?"_

_ "And everything would be okay. It wouldn't be over."_

_ "Soda, how much do you make at the DX?"_

_ "As much as you if you were full time. Enough to help Darry out."_

_ "And who would help Darry if you were trying to raise a kid?"_

_ Soda looked down at the envelope in his hands. "Oh."_

_ "I'm not saying this to be mean, buddy. But listen, okay? How do you think social services would look at it?"_

_ "At what?"_

_ "Pony's fourteen. What would they think if they see you married at sixteen? And they'll assume that baby's yours, even though you took care of business."_

_ Soda looked up at Steve, still clutching the envelope. "I hadn't thought about anything like that. I only thought about her. But you're right. How could I not think about my brothers?"_

_ "Like I said, you can't see straight. You understand now?"  
_

_"Yeah." Soda ripped open the freshly sealed envelope and took out the letter he'd written, reading over his desperate scrawl. "I still want to write to her, but not this. I have to write something different."_

* * *

Evie approached Steve's car, seeing him standing beside it. "Hey, what did you want to talk about?"

Steve fiddled with his keys, before unlocking the car and tossing his backpack inside. "I thought you'd know. Why are people talking about us? About me?"

"I didn't say anything, Steve. Nothing about what we went through or what you've been dealing with. I wouldn't do that."

"I know. But TwoBit told me what he heard about me and you and our _problems._ I don't get it, Evie. Where's it coming from?"

"I don't know. I guess people just like to talk, but I haven't said a bad thing about you. I promise."

"I'm not blaming you. Please don't think I am. I just don't like anyone talking about me like that. If I wanted them to, I'd tell them my actual business. Maybe the truth would be interesting enough for them."

* * *

_Steve saw Ponyboy's pencil glide along the white paper, the formless sketch quickly becoming a face framed by long, darkened hair with a body that wore the signature jean jacket. He still looked on when Pony began to sketch what appeared to be flames that were a safe distance away from the boy he knew to be Johnny, the drawing rescuing him from the risk of burning._

_ Pony saw Steve watching him and closed the sketchbook. Refusing to look at his middle brother's best friend, he reached to take a bite from the slice of chocolate cake Soda had left beside him. "Geez, Sodapop! What'd you do? Put the whole bag of sugar in here?"_

_ Chuckling, Soda put the remaining cake in the refrigerator. "Well, it had to be sweet like me, didn't it?"_

_ Steve reached for the comb in his back pocket. "Right, buddy. That's a reason to put us all in a sugar coma. Hey, I was supposed to take Evie out tonight, but something's going on with one of her girlfriends. Want to come hang out at Jay's with me?"_

_ Soda sat down next to Pony, putting his arm around him. "Sure, man. Want to come with us, Pone? Might help you to get out of the house."_

_ Steve finished combing his hair, his eyebrow raising when he noticed Pony staring at him. "What, Kid?"_

_ Pony, anticipating a protest, raised an eyebrow of his own. "Soda invited me to come with you, and you're not saying anything?"_

_ Steve shrugged, tucking his comb back into his pocket. "What's there to say? He's right. You coming or not?"_

* * *

Steve threw his DX cap on the bed and started to unbutton his shirt, before responding to the knock at the door, knowing Nicholas was on the other side. "I'm not coming out right now, Dad."

Nicholas looked in at his son. "Okay if I come in then?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Nicholas stepped inside the room, sitting down at the foot of Steve's bed. "Long day?"

Steve undid the last button, leaving the white t-shirt beneath his work shirt visible. "Something like that. Go ahead, Dad. Ask if I'm okay. I know you're thinking it. You have been since I walked in the house."

"I think I already know the answer to that question, Son. What happened?"

"Nobody I don't know I can trust knows anything, but people are saying shit, Dad. It really pisses me off too!"

Nicholas reached for Steve's arm, pulling him down beside him. "Hey, slow down. Who is saying what?"

"People at school are saying things about me and Evie and what went on between us when we were together."

"I'm sorry, Son. It's not theirs to talk about at all."

"And it's not even true! TwoBit was telling me what he heard. It was real personal too. It's like they can't accept just not knowing what's happening in my life, so they're taking guesses."

"What kind of guesses?"

"Embarrassing ones. Evie told me the other day that everything I told her is safe. I already knew she wouldn't say anything about me or what happened and all. So I didn't even ask her why she would need to tell me that." Steve pressed a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed. "It's not any of their damn business."

"You're right. It's not."

"But there's not one thing I can do about it. Not a single one. Even though I know it would be worse if they found out the truth."

* * *

_Steve waited, his feet pushing the porch swing back, then letting it go forward. He didn't move when Nicholas sat down beside him. "You don't have to sit here with me, Dad. I'm just waiting for Soda."_

_ Nicholas stayed where he was, his presence the only support he could offer. "I know. And I know you're nervous."_

_ "Of course I'm nervous. How could I not be? They could get taken away or those Socs could lie and-"_

_ "I know, Son. I understand. I wasn't saying you shouldn't be. Hell, it's making me nervous to know what those boys are going through."_

_ Steve heard Nicholas' words, but his eyes were centered several feet away, on the figure of his best friend, who was coming toward the house. He stood, hesitantly moving to meet Soda in the middle of the driveway, noticing the calm set of his expression, even as he feared it would crumble into sadness any second. "So what happened, man?"_

_ Soda stopped walking, then dropped down onto the gravel beside Steve's car. He felt his eyes water at the same time he grinned up at his best friend. "Everything is okay, Stevie. Judge cleared Ponyboy. He's not in any trouble. And we both stay with Darry."_

* * *

Soda opened Steve's bedroom door, not bothering to knock. "Hey, don't tell me you're going to stay in here all night."

Steve threw himself down on the bed, stretching his legs out across it. "I might as well. I don't want to go out and end up with even more shit in my head. I'm fucked up enough, man."

Soda crossed the room and roughly seized Steve's shoulder, turning his best friend to look at his face. "Hey, you listen to me. No matter what anyone is saying, they don't know anything. So don't you dare talk like that."

Steve's gaze dropped, breaking the eye contact. "You're not in my head, Sodapop."

"But I don't have to be to know you're not fucked up. No matter what's in your head, you ain't that, buddy."

Steve sat up, the heaviness descending on him at a pace he hadn't anticipated. "I didn't expect something like that to bother me this much. People talk. So what? Soon enough, it'll be about somebody else."

"Maybe because it's not the only thing bothering you right now."

Before Steve could form the words for a logical reply, he felt the familiar fog in his mind that clouded his view of himself and life. He felt the trajectory shifting into one of despair, as the untrue talk of the grapevine became jumbled with the constructed mental picture he had of the facts he'd learned just days ago. "Soda, I don't feel like going out. But stay here. I think I need you and my dad tonight."


	45. Chapter 45

A/N I hope everyone who is reading had a happy Thanksgiving! I'm so incredibly excited to share this long chapter! :) I particularly loved writing this one. It's made up of moments and lines I've been waiting for and a handful more of scenes I wouldn't have dreamed I could actually put on paper, let alone put in the story.

Chri_stopher ran toward the woman he'd only met a handful of times before, throwing his arms around her. "Grandma Nora!"_

_ The woman, who'd found no joy in being a mother for chunks of time she now lived to regret, embraced the young boy. "Hi, Christopher. It's so good to see you."_

_ Nathan looked at his wife's mother, no trace of her former self present, as she interacted with Christopher. "Thanks for letting us come, Nora. It won't be for long, but... Well, I told you on the phone."_

_ Nora also embraced Nathan, having found the expression of love brought her hope. "No. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad Christopher's here. Don't worry about a thing."_

* * *

Steve slipped through the sands of time, the grains pulling him along, though he struggled against them.

He heard voices speaking to him, the tones soothing and familiar, yet he remained lost within the depths of the past that refused to be locked away.

* * *

_Steve sat on the hood of his car, a Coke in his hand. "I know, man. TwoBit was worried. Hell, I'll admit I was worried too."_

_ Soda leaned against the car, his attempt to look casual failing in the face of Steve's story about Ponyboy. "So what happened? Did you guys have to chase them off?"_

_ "Nah. Your little brother did that all on his own."_

_ "Huh?"  
_

_"Yep. He busted a bottle and threatened them with it. They didn't stick around."_

_ "Ponyboy?"_

_ "I didn't believe my eyes at first. And maybe I like to pretend I think the kid should get tough. But I know it ain't him. It didn't seem right. He hasn't changed a bit though."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "He was picking up the glass, Sodapop."_

_ "The glass from the bottle?"_

_ "Yeah. Kid didn't want anybody to get a flat tire. I couldn't help it. I laughed."_

_ "That sounds more like Pony. I wonder if he'd have used it if they hadn't backed off. They had to have scared him."_

_ "I don't think he would have. We wouldn't have given him a chance anyway."_

_ "I want him to be able to defend himself, but I don't know. If any of us is around, I'd rather him let us help. Especially knowing now how out of hand it can get. It ain't just a fight anymore, you dig?"_

_ "Yeah, I dig. Kid probably thought I was laughing at him. But I wasn't. I was just so damn relieved to be able to see he's still in there somewhere."_

* * *

Steve remained still, not speaking, though his mind was anything but quiet. He felt a grip on his shoulder that then moved down to grasp his hand, squeezing it tight. He wanted to squeeze back.

Steve felt a pair of arms wrap around him, yet he couldn't return the embrace. Even still, his body sank into the touch, the need to be held as great as the need to keep breathing.

* * *

_Darry tossed a pile of mail on the counter, seeing Steve in the living room. "Hey. Pony come home with you?"_

_ Steve glanced at the mail, a letter sliding out to catch his eye. "Yeah, he did, Superman. He went in his room. Something about an essay."_

_ "Oh. All right. Soda will be in in a minute." Darry followed Steve's gaze. "Is that what I think it is?"_

_ "Yeah. The letter he wrote Sandy." Steve picked up he unopened letter, barely resisting the urge to rip it up, making it no longer exist."_

_ "I know what you're thinking. I want to do it too, but it wouldn't be right. It's not like he forgot he wrote to her."_

_ Steve placed the envelope underneath the rest of the mail, acknowledging Darry was right. As Soda stepped inside only a second later, he pulled his gaze away from the spot on the counter, hatred rising in knowing that he couldn't protect his best friend from a painful reminder that came in the form of a returned letter, sent back by a girl who quite possibly had never loved him at all._

* * *

Nicholas cradled the back of Steve's head, as he held his son close to him. "I wish you'd say something, Son. Anything."

Soda gave Steve's hand another squeeze, intent on not letting go, even though his best friend had yet to respond to a touch or a word. "I wish he'd even just move. I've never seen him like this."

Nicholas looked down at Steve, noticing how he seemed to stare at nothing, though he was certain his son saw plenty in his mind's eye. "I haven't either."

Soda saw Nicholas' eyes close and heard the beginning of a whispered prayer. He closed his eyes too, now gripping Steve's hand with both of his own, his lips silently forming the prayer of his thoughts: God, please help my friend. You know how much I love him. I know you love him too.

* * *

_ TwoBit strolled down the sidewalk, Steve beside him. "We ought to go see if Soda wants to head to the drive-in with us tonight."_

_ Steve saw the Curtis' house come into view, still remembering where he'd left that returned letter just hours before. "Yeah. We should."_

_ TwoBit opened his mouth to reply, but the words were lost, as the buddy in question bolted out the Curtis' front door._

_ Steve watched Soda sprint across the yard, then head in the opposite direction. "Hey, Sodapop!" Just as he started to go after his best friend, Ponyboy raced across the porch, darting toward his brother.  
_

_TwoBit saw Darry come out of the house as well, going after both Soda and Pony. "What the hell is happening?"_

* * *

Nicholas whispered the last of his prayer. "Please, God. Help him through this. And protect him." He looked down at Steve. "Come back to us, Son. It's just me and Soda. You're safe."

Soda tried to meet Steve's eyes, still not releasing his hand. "Yeah. Come on, buddy."

Steve slowly gathered the strength he had, lifting one arm to hug Nicholas back. "I'm trying. Just too much."

Nicholas could easily hear the weakness in Steve's voice, the sound uncharacteristically small. "I know, Son. I know."

Soda felt Steve's hand squeeze his own, as he shared a look with Nicholas. "It's okay, Stevie."

Steve pressed his face into Nicholas' shirt, the need to explain existing even though he was spent in every possible way. "I can't stop seeing it. Want to be strong, but it's so real."

Nicholas unconsciously tightened his hold on Steve, the vulnerability in his son's voice hard to comprehend. "You are strong. Don't ever think you're not."

Soda released Steve's hand, reaching to grip his shoulder. "You're tough, buddy. Just like I told you."

Nicholas asked the question, fearing he could already predict the answer. "You can't stop seeing what? What's so real?"

The heaviness descending on him once again, Steve closed his eyes. "Clara bleeding. Dead. Blood everywhere. In the street. In the park."

* * *

_Pony came into the living room and handed Darry his math homework. "I swear it's finished. My essay will be too. I only got a few more pages to go."_

_ Darry scanned the page of equations. "That's due Friday, right?"_

_ Steve sat in the kitchen with Soda, who he could see was leaning to listen to his brothers. He went to stand closer to him, keeping his voice low. "They been doing okay?"_

_ Soda sighed, letting himself relax when neither Darry nor Pony started yelling. "I get nervous whenever they talk about school. But yeah. For now anyway."_

_ Steve looked at the youngest Curtis brother, remembering the drawing he'd glimpsed not long ago, his own memories of the past few weeks barely below the surface of his mind. "They'll be all right, man. You guys didn't get through everything together to fall apart now."_

* * *

Nicholas swallowed the temptation to dive into the trap of guilt, having taken Steve's words about blaming himself to heart. He looked over at Soda, swearing he saw the dawn of understanding in his eyes.

Soda stared at Steve, their talk from a few days before flashing through his mind, as he saw the connections his best friend had made. "I can go if you want me to, buddy. If you just want to talk to your dad."

Steve turned his head, briefly meeting Soda's gaze. "No. Don't go."

Nicholas pulled himself out of his daze when Steve lifted his head, easing away from the embrace. "Are you okay now, Son? I'm trying to figure out what I can say to help you."

Steve looked down at his arms, just as he had in the moments after Grace told him about how Clara died. He tried to blink away the images that he hoped would have less power now that he'd been able to speak even those few words. "I'm getting there, Dad."

* * *

_Ponyboy flipped through the pages of his theme, checking to see if they were in order._

_ Steve stuck his head in the room. "Hey, Kid. Seen Sodapop?"_

_ Pony tucked the essay into a folder, as he looked at Steve. "Yeah. I think he's out back somewhere."_

_ Steve eyed the folder, the thickness of the pages inside standing out to him. "Shit, Kid. What'd you do? Write a whole book?"_

_ Pony felt the grin cross his face, as he opened the front cover. "Yeah. Something like that." He placed the folder in his backpack, before picking up the copy of "Gone with the Wind" that held Johnny's letter within its pages._

_ "This might sound strange coming from me, but you doing all right?"_

_ "Yeah. I guess so. As all right as I can."_

_ "You're not so bad, Kid. But don't tell anyone I said it."  
_

_"You're not so bad yourself, Steve. I guess you do have a heart in there somewhere, huh?"_

_ Steve smiled. "Shoot, Ponyboy, I guess I do. But keep it quiet, will you? I think only you and Soda know about it."_

_ "Don't worry. You secret's safe with me."_

* * *

Nicholas followed Soda out onto the front porch. "Please tell me you know what Steve was talking about in there when he said that about the street and the park. I don't want to ask him right now."

Soda took a deep breath, his hand gripping the porch railing. "Yeah. I do. He asked me the other day if everything that happened still bothers me. You know, with Pony and Johnny running away and all. He's talking about that."

"I didn't even realize he was thinking about that now."

"I didn't see it coming either. He was talking about Dal getting shot and Pony passing out. And Johnny dying too. Just out of nowhere."

"I knew he had a hard time then. I knew _all _of you did. But there's even more going on here than I thought."

"I'd wondered if I should tell you about what he was saying. It was only the day after he talked to Grace. So it's like everything that's ever happened is bothering him."

Nicholas recalled the first time Steve had actually gone through a session with Laura, remembering how his son had told him they talked about the events leading up to the deaths of his friends. "I can see how it would. I've even thought before that could be when other things first started coming back to him."

"Could be." Soda's grip on the railing tightened, as he leaned forward.

Nicholas stepped closer, touching Soda's shoulder. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just not feeling the best."

"You told Steve he's tough. And you're right. But I want you to know you are too, Sodapop."

* * *

_Steve drove his car out of the school's parking lot, noticing Evie waving at him, though he had no desire to wave back._

_ Maybe I should, he thought. Maybe then, I'll be saying goodbye._

_ Maybe then, he would go in peace._

* * *

Nicholas lie back against his pillows, his eyes aching to sleep. When he saw Steve in the doorway, he switched on the lamp. "I thought you were asleep, Son."

Steve padded into the room, hesitating even though logic told him he didn't have to. "Dad, I know I was acting weird earlier. I didn't mean to be like that."

"You weren't acting weird. You were overwhelmed."

Steve edged closer, stopping beside the foot of the bed. "I hope I didn't freak you out or anything. It was like I kind of shut down or something."

"I know. You didn't freak me out. Don't worry about it."

"And what I said, that's not all that's bothering me."

"I know that too."

Steve, finding himself prone to the very same onslaught of thoughts and memories that had driven the disconnection he'd gone through earlier that evening, was overcome by a sense of doubt. "Dad, I know you want to sleep, and I should too, but can I- Can I have a hug?"

Nicholas moved across the bed and pulled Steve into his arms, his heart pained by both the way his son sounded so young and fragile and the idea that he even felt the need to wonder. "Of course. You never have to ask, Son. Never."

Steve melted into the embrace, his arms holding onto Nicholas. "Please pray for me, Dad. I heard you earlier. But please do it now too."

* * *

_Steve pressed on the brake, stopping his car at the red traffic light. He glanced to his left, eyeing the intersection that led to the DX station. Soda's going to be looking for me soon, he thought. But I won't be showing up at work today._

_ He was intending to never show up anywhere on this Earth again._

* * *

Steve listened to his dad's prayer, his eyes looking up, though his head lie still against Nicholas' chest. He imagined the intercessory words drifting up to God, growing wings that carried them all the way up to Heaven.

* * *

_Steve could still see the drug store in his rear view mirror when the tears started to roll down his cheeks, breaking the facade he held in place when he'd gone inside to make his purchase. I have to make it stop, he thought. I have to end it._

_ Steve looked over at the paper bag in the passenger seat, the urge to go to sleep and never wake up rising, as he continuously reflected upon the memories that were constant in the way they disrupted his life. Soon, I won't feel the pain, he thought. I won't be able to feel anything at all._

* * *

Finding divine consolation in the moments of prayer, Steve imagined God stopping to hear the pleas that were coated with the pure love and raw desperation of a father.

He pictured God looking down on him and Nicholas, both watching and listening, as the requests were made on his behalf.

* * *

_The ripped pieces of the plan he'd made with Laura still in his lap and the words of a prayer fresh on his lips, Steve popped open the can of Coke. My dad won't be home for a while, he thought. There's time. It'll be all over before then._

_ He took the bottle of pills out of the paper bag and twisted the cap off. He stared down at the white tablets, nearly able to hear the beckoning of the relief he knew could only be found in death._

_ Steve turned the bottle up, making some of the pills fall into his hand. He turned it up again, and several more landed, just waiting for him to swallow them._

_ With one more look to the sky, Steve put the pills in his mouth, gulping the Coke to make each one slide down his throat._

_ He didn't stop until the bottle was empty, then he waited for eternal slumber to come and claim him, to rescue him from the pain that never allowed for an escape. He waited for the answer to his last prayer._

* * *

Enveloped in the quiet stillness that bathed the room as Nicholas continued to pray, Steve envisioned God stepping down from Heaven to join them.

Not letting go of his dad, he felt a gentle presence fill the atmosphere, at the same time sensing that it wasn't only Nicholas holding him now. The arms of God had wrapped around him too.

* * *

Soda took steady breaths of the night air, as he held his head in his hands, the armor he'd worn while in Steve's presence threatening to crumble around him. "What was that, God? Please tell me he's okay." He heard a rustling of one of the trees in the front yard, the wind moving the branches to create the quietest noise. "I won't stop praying. Cause I do know you hear me every time." Soda saw a stream of light and turned to look behind him.

Darry stood with the front door open. "You've been quiet since you got home from Steve's, little buddy."

Soda only nodded, turning back around.

Darry stepped outside, the stream of light disappearing, as the door closed. "Is something going on?"

Soda started to speak, then paused. "I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Just give it your best shot."

"I guess Steve had a really bad flashback, but it was sort of worse than that. He just sat there for a long time. He didn't move or talk or anything. I guess he couldn't. Nicholas said he hasn't seen him like that before either."

"Was he doing better by the time you left?"

"Yeah. Seemed to be. I would've stayed if he hadn't been."

"At least he wasn't alone."

"Nah. He couldn't have pushed me or his dad away. Not that he would've tried." Soda's eyes drifted back to the tree that had moved along with the wind just minutes earlier. "Hey, Dar. You said God listened to you about me and Pony. Was there ever any time you felt like he wasn't listening? I mean, I know he is but..."

"There's nothing wrong with wondering, Sodapop. But, yes, I did feel like that sometimes. It was pretty hard not to when Pony ran away."

"Steve's been talking about that. I mean when Johnny and Dal died and all. And even Mom and Dad. I didn't know any of that was bothering him now, but it makes sense." Soda felt tears rise in his eyes. "It sure makes me miss them more too."

"You know what I think, little buddy?"

"That I'm an even bigger bawl baby than I used to be?"

Darry gave Soda a small smile, as he ruffled his hair. "No. I think- No, I _know _Steve couldn't have a better friend than you."

"Man, what's going on tonight?"

"Huh?"

"Not long before I came home, Nicholas told me I'm tough. Now, you're telling me that."

"Cause it's true. Both are true."

Soda laid his head on Darry's shoulder. "I love you, big brother."

Darry started to rub Soda's back. "I love you too. Steve's going to get through all of this, okay? He hasn't come this far not to."

Soda looked up at the sky, the stillness of the air a welcome sign of tranquility. "I hope you're right, Dar. You have to be."

* * *

Steve had only just slipped into the grasp of a dream when he opened his eyes, the room quiet except for the sound of the shower running.

Realizing he was in his own bedroom, he started to sit up, the night before playing back in his mind, as if it were a series of visions, not a recent memory. None of it even feels like it was real now, he thought. But it was. I know it was.

* * *

Samuel poured more coffee into the mug that was in front of Nicholas. "You're probably right that he got too overwhelmed."

Nicholas added a spoonful of sugar to the coffee. "I remember the first time he had a flashback. He used to get a lot more scared. At least last night, he was letting us be there for him. I know that helps."

Samuel put the coffee pot back in its place on the counter. "He has a lot to process. So maybe kind of detaching for a little while helped him handle the memories and everything else too."

Nicholas sipped the coffee, his hand still gripping the mug's handle, as he set it down on the table. "That makes sense."

"And maybe I'm looking too much into what you told me, but it sounds like he felt safe enough to do that with you and Sodapop."

"Yeah. He must have. I know he trusts both of us."

Samuel picked up his own mug of coffee, looking at Nicholas. "You're Steve's safe place to fall. Both of you are."

"You know, he really called me out for blaming myself for anything one day. I asked him if I shouldn't have let him know the details about Clara's death, and I think he got a little bit mad."

"He doesn't want you to hurt any more than you want him to."

"He's right though. I'm better about forgiving myself for the past. But I _do_ look for ways to make things my fault now."

"I think that's a way of trying to have some kind of control."

"It is. That's exactly what I find myself wanting to have too. I think Steve got through to me though. He asked me how he's supposed to get past the guilt he's still suffering if I'm doing it to myself too. It means a lot to hear him tell me the best way to help him is to stop taking on all the blame."

"It seems like we, as humans, so easily blame ourselves for things, but when people we love do it, it drives us crazy."

Nicholas looked down at the coffee, his next thought lingering on his tongue. "Maybe I shouldn't ask this. I _know _I shouldn't. But what did Steve talk to you about when he went to the church?"

Samuel walked away from the counter, taking his seat across from Nicholas. "He's not keeping anything from you, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know it shouldn't, but when he wouldn't say much to me at first after Grace came over and then said he had talked to you, that bothered me."

"You do know that if Steve ever told me something you need to know, I'd tell you, right?"

"I do know that. And I trust you. It just kind of made me feel like I didn't know what was going on, and that scares me."

"He didn't talk to me about anything you don't already know, Nicholas. I promise."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'm glad he'll talk to you too. It makes me feel better to know he has so many people there for him. That has to make a big difference."

* * *

Steve was pulling on his jacket when he saw Soda coming up the porch steps. He looked down at the denim material, as he slid his arms into the sleeves.

Soda came inside the house, the door closing behind him. "Hey, Stevie. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Just about to go outside or something, I guess."

"I was thinking about walking over to the lot."

"Oh. Okay."

"And maybe grabbing a milkshake."

"Okay."

When Steve still didn't look up, Soda let out a sigh, stepping closer to him. "You don't got anything to be embarrassed about, you know."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I just didn't like seeming weak last night. That's all."

"You didn't though. There ain't anything weak about you, man. Besides, what was in that sermon Samuel did a couple of weeks ago? About God giving us his strength or something like that?"

"You really did listen, huh?"

"Of course."

Steve lifted his gaze then. "I did see you pray last night. I was pretty out of it, but I knew. Thanks for that. I don't think I've told you before."

"You don't even have to tell me, buddy."

"Thanks for staying too. It means a hell of a lot to me, man."

"I know you'd do the same thing for me in a heartbeat."

* * *

Pony slid into the booth across from TwoBit. "I don't know. It didn't feel right to me. But I didn't know what to say either. Man, if Soda had been there, he would've been all over them."

TwoBit picked up a menu, sliding another to Pony. "Don't worry about it, Kid. It wouldn't help for you to get into it with anybody."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"You know how people like to be saying something just to keep their mouths moving."

"I do. And I know they talked about me too last year, acting like they knew a damn thing about what happened. That's why I don't like it."

* * *

Steve balled up a napkin and threw it at Soda, as he laughed. "Aw, you should've known you couldn't just take the dude's hair grease, man!"

Soda finished off the rest of his chocolate milkshake. "Well, I was going to give it back. Besides, what is it TwoBit says? He's so greasy he glides when he walks? He was literally like that. I think he poured the stuff all over his head!"

"Man, if we let you get like that, forget gliding. You'd just slide all over the place."

"That kind of sounds like fun."

"Yeah. Until you slid into the wrong person and-" Steve saw Evie step inside the parlor, the same guy he'd seen her with in the hallway at school by her side.

Soda turned around, following Steve's gaze. "Um, we can get out of here, if you want."

Steve watched, as Evie's eyes caught his own. "Yeah, we should probably do that."

* * *

Nicholas pulled a sheet from the basket of laundry and was shaking out the wrinkles when he heard Steve's voice, followed by Soda's.

"Hell, I'm the one who ended it. And it's not like I don't expect her to go out with anybody else. She should! But I don't really want to watch either."

"I understand, buddy. You don't have to explain it to me."

Nicholas folded up the sheet, tucking the corners of each side together, as he heard Steve's reply that was cut off by Soda.

"I guess I'm mostly explaining it to myself. She's a great girl. She deserves to have someone who's not-"

"Don't you dare say it, Stevie. Cause you're not."

Nicholas finished folding the sheet and set it on the back of the couch, once again hearing Steve's voice.

"I wish I could stop feeling like it. The shit people are saying sure didn't help either."

Nicholas picked up one of Steve's socks, hunting for its mate underneath the remainder of the laundry, as he heard Soda speak once more.

"What was it you said to that Soc? About him not having a life? They don't either."

Nicholas found the matching sock, folding the pair together, at the same time Steve answered.

"Yeah. I know. It's just, what I said last night, I was serious. It's like I keep seeing- Well, you know what I told you. And this kind of stuff makes it worse. Damn, it stresses me out too because then I wonder what if they all knew what _did _happen to me?"

Nicholas threw the folded socks back in the basket, inwardly cringing at the idea of Steve's question. He heard his son speak again, Soda joining him to continue the conversation.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you to do me a favor."

"Anything, man."

"I know I don't have to do this, but after I was in the hospital and everything, TwoBit asked me what's been going on, and I never did answer his question. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I haven't yet."

"Okay."

"And I know he's got my back, coming and telling me what he heard, but then I couldn't even tell him what actually happened between me and Evie. Not really anyway."

"Yeah."

"Soda, would you talk to him with me? Well, not_ with_ me. You don't have to say anything. Just, you know, be there?"

"You got it, buddy. If that's what you want to do."

"It is. I know he's been worried and seen a lot of stuff that doesn't make much sense. I want to tell him."

* * *

TwoBit sat on the Curtis' front porch swing, seeing Steve and Soda coming up the walk. "Hey, it's Soda and Steve-O! What brings you two by?"

Soda gave TwoBit a small shove. "I live here, you goofball."

TwoBit turned to Steve. "Going to challenge Superman to another arm wrestling contest tonight?"

Steve started to reply, but the words to a comeback refused to leave his mouth. "I don't know. Maybe."

Noticing Steve's expression, Soda nudged him. "Maybe you could even beat him this time, huh?"

Steve's eyes flitted between Soda and TwoBit, then landed on Darry, as he also stepped outside. "I can't- I can't do this."

TwoBit tilted his head to the side, as he looked at Soda, then back at Steve. "You can't do what?"

Steve only shook his head, before turning away, going past Darry and through the front door.

Soda watched Steve walked away, the hesitation not a shock to him.

Darry sat down next to TwoBit. "What was that about?"

TwoBit shrugged. "I ain't sure. Wouldn't be the first time lately though."

* * *

Steve stood in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, the cold drops soothing the feeling of uncertainty. "God, I know it might sound strange, but you know what I mean. I want to feel what I did when my dad was praying."

He turned the water off, his reflection in the mirror bringing to mind the way he so often saw himself. He remembered how he'd expressed that to Soda the night before and had attempted to do so again today, only for his best friend to anticipate his next words and stop him from repeating them. "If I'm really not that, God, please make this feeling go away. I know you were there with me last night too. Please do it again."

* * *

TwoBit slammed down his last card. "Well, would you look at that? I'm all out."

Steve looked down at his own hand, mumbling to himself. "You're all out of something, all right."

Soda tossed down the few cards he still held. "I don't have much."

Steve watched as TwoBit began to count up his points, ignoring his own score. He picked up the cards on the table, stacking them up, his hands fidgeting with the edges. "Uh, could I talk to you about something, TwoBit? I mean seriously? I know we don't do that a lot, but I kind of need to."

TwoBit, not yet shedding his casual demeanor, counted up the last of the cards he'd played. "Sure, man. What's up?"

Soda stacked the rest of his cards that were on the table, before putting a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve glanced at Soda, then his eyes drifted down to the table.

TwoBit, noticing the look passing between his two buddies, turned his attention to Steve. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Steve still gripped the cards in his hand, the symbols and numbers in front of his eyes. "I'm not sure where to start. I wanted to tell you before because you asked me what was going on. Before just months ago, Soda didn't even know."

TwoBit sat back in his chair, remembering all the times he'd wondered what was happening with Steve. "Okay. Just start at the beginning then."

Steve thought back to when he'd first told Soda about the abuse and how the truth had finally spilled out, though he'd feared it would change the way his best friend may see him. He glanced at Soda again, the unwavering support something he couldn't imagine being without. "TwoBit, when I was a kid, I was- I was abused."

TwoBit stared at Steve, his mouth opening, as he tried to decide what to say next. "But I knew you when you were a kid. How did- I mean..."

Steve covered his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, as he felt Soda squeeze his shoulder. "Yeah. But it wasn't something you could see. My dad, he had a girlfriend named Clara. She used to touch me."

TwoBit looked down at the cards that were still on the table, his mind trying to process what Steve's words meant. "Touch you? Do you mean like she- um-" He stopped, looking toward Soda, then back at Steve. "What do you mean?"

Soda saw the tears in Steve's eyes, unable to keep from thinking about the time they'd had such a similar conversation. "Hey, buddy, I know you told me I don't have to say anything, but I can help if it gets too hard, okay?"

Steve lifted the hand that held the cards and set them down on the table, as he felt a tear fall down his cheek. "I mean what it sounds like. She used to come in my room at night and touch me. Until my dad caught her."

TwoBit reached over and touched Steve's shoulder, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "So everything that's happened, is this why?"

Steve didn't look at TwoBit, his eyes briefly making contact with Soda's, before he nodded. "I never told anybody else. Me and my dad didn't really talk about it either. And then, I don't know, it all started bothering me again."

After a beat of silence, Soda noticed how still Steve was and squeezed his arm. "Hey, take a breath, man."

TwoBit saw Steve opened his mouth to take a gulp of air, the moment making him remember an afternoon from months before. "That panic attack you had when I spooked you. This was why."

Steve wiped at his eyes, as he confirmed TwoBit's insight. "Yeah. Sorry I didn't explain. That was when it all started getting bad. The flashbacks, that's when they were first happening. I didn't even know what they were yet."

TwoBit turned the term over in his mind. "Flashbacks? What's that?"

Steve recalled what he'd first called the traumatic experience. "Like memories attacking me. Reliving the abuse. They're a big part of the reason that I uh, tried to kill myself."

Soda felt himself shudder inside, knowing he could never get used to hearing those words from his best friend.

TwoBit put his hand on Steve's shoulder again. "I don't know what to say, man. What can I say?"

Steve thought of the sort of responses he'd feared, though not one had come to pass any of the times he'd revealed the abuse. "You don't have to say anything, TwoBit. Just still be my buddy."

TwoBit grinned at Steve. "Well, damn. You know better than that, Steve-O. Of course you ain't getting rid of me that easy."

Steve tried to grin back, the tears still in his eyes. "Thanks. I guess maybe you'll figure it out now, but me and Evie had a hard time with all this. It just didn't work anymore."

TwoBit's mind circled through all the times he'd seen Steve in some sort of distress, so clearly bothered by something, then to the moment he'd learned his friend had attempted to kill himself. "So what do you do about this kind of stuff? How does it get better?"

Steve considered his ways of coping, TwoBit's question a simple one with complex answers. "I talk through it. A lot. I ask for help when I need it. And I just do my best to keep going, man."

* * *

_Steve pushed open his car door, hanging onto the handle when he felt his head begin to spin with the uncertainty of his actions. He put a hand on his chest, his heart beating steadily against his palm. He shoved the acetaminophen bottle in the paper bag, before closing his eyes and opening them again, realizing he felt no sign of the drowsiness he had anticipated, not even a touch of the numbness he so desired._

_ Leaving the empty medicine bottle and all evidence of his daily existence in the car, Steve stepped out of the Ford. Taking only his keys with him, he closed the door and stared at his house, before beginning to put one foot in front of the other._

_ Steve walked toward the house, realizing he was steady on his feet, able to keep moving. Did I really do it? he wondered. Or was it a dream? At that internal question, he rushed back to the car and pulled open the passenger door. He took the medicine bottle out of the paper bag and twisted off the cap, looking inside it to find not even a single pill. You did do it, Steve told himself. You took them all. You took all those pills. He replaced the cap, then tossed the empty bottle into the seat, before closing the passenger door. _

_ He leaned back against the Ford, putting a hand on his stomach, as he recalled the way he'd swallowed the pills, still able to taste the Coke he'd used to chase them down. But I'm still here, he thought. I took them, and it still hurts._

_ Steve could vividly picture the most recent nightmare he'd had, the image of Clara's dead body fluttering through his mind. He could still envision the memories from that day's flashback, his own emotions and Clara's vicious touch as real and tangible as the ground beneath his feet._

_ I'm still alive, Steve thought. And I still remember. I'm trying to die, and I still can't forget._

_ As he again started to go toward his house, Steve imagined the sensation of unconsciousness overtaking him. He made his feet go up the porch steps, as he pictured himself floating away on the blessed wings of never-ending rest, all the pain of Earthly life left behind, all the memories wiped away by the salvation found only in death._

* * *

Nicholas read Psalm 139, along with Pastor David:

"O Lord, thou hast searched me and known me! Thou knowest when I sit down and when I rise up;thou discernest my thoughts from afar. Thou searchest out my path and my lying down,and art acquainted with all my ways."

Steve looked on with his dad, the words that described the intimate depth of God's perceptions piercing a place in his heart that made him want to hear more, as Pastor David continued:

"Even before a word is on my tongue, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou dost beset me behind and before,and layest thy hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it."

Soda sat beside Steve, his mind even more focused on the words he hoped to find the time to say than the scripture verses he was hearing. He glanced over at Steve, as he prayed within his thoughts: That means you know, God. You know what I need to say and why. You know even better than I do.

Pastor David read the next few verses that were going to lead into the main part of his sermon: "Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend to heaven, thou art there! If I make my bed in Sheol, thou art there!"

Steve touched Nicholas' arm, keeping his voice a low whisper. "That's what I felt, Dad."

Nicholas could hear Pastor David begin to read the next verses, as he responded to Steve. "What is?"

Steve still thought of the moments when his dad was praying, expressing the connection to the Psalm. "What he's saying. God's presence. I felt it a couple of nights ago in your room."

Nicholas remembered how he'd prayed for Steve, while they remained in an embrace, not doubting that God had been there with them. "Me too, Son."

Pastor David, finished reading the scripture for the time being, closed his eyes and bowed his head, the rest of the congregation joining him, as he began to pray aloud.

About to follow suit, Steve first looked at Soda out of the corner of his eye. The tension in his best friend visible, he put a hand on his back.

Soda's eyes opened when he felt the touch. He looked over at Steve, seeing his head bowed and his eyes closed, still except for moving lips. He couldn't make out the whispered words, but he blinked back tears, hearing the sound of a much needed prayer.

* * *

_Steve was lying on the couch, his eyes closed tight, when he felt the first trace of pain in his stomach. He turned over on his side, telling himself to just rest and wait, as he pushed his face into a pillow._

_ Don't breathe, he thought. Then, maybe you'll go to sleep. Maybe you'll sleep and never wake up and-_

_ Steve felt his chest tighten and let out the breath he'd been holding. He opened his eyes, his head beginning to get heavy with dizziness. A pang of nausea cut like a blade through his insides, at the same time he imagined his dad coming home to find him dead on this very couch._

_ Steve lifted himself up on his elbows, his breathing becoming ragged, as the nausea sailed through his body. What if I die? he thought. What if my dad finds me here? A consistent ache pulsed through his stomach, as he sat up, the nausea making bile rise in his throat. What have I done? I don't want to die. I want it to stop, but I don't want to die._

_ Steve wrapped his arms around himself, the physical pain not ceasing. What do I do? he asked himself, as tears welled in his eyes. He rocked back and forth, the nausea growing and sending heat throughout his body. God, I'm sorry. Please help me._

_ Steve looked at the phone, the tears dripping down his face. I have call my dad, he thought. He'll help me. He got to his feet, clutching his stomach, as he remembered the times he'd asked for help. He remembered how he'd told both his dad and Soda he would come to one of them if he felt like he might hurt himself. But I did, he mused. I did it. I hurt myself. I kept saying I wouldn't, but I did. They've been here for me, and now, I might die._

_Steve dropped to his knees, pulling the phone down to the floor with him. I could've done any of the things Laura told me, he thought. But I didn't. The nausea rattled through him, the need to empty his stomach getting more intense. I didn't. And now, it hurts. Everything hurts._

_ Steve could see his fingers shaking, as he dialed Nicholas' work number. He put the receiver to his ear, hearing the line ring, at the same time he whispered. "Please pick up. Please pick up. I need you, Dad. I didn't mean to do this, he thought. I want to live._

* * *

Steve pulled open the door, about to go back inside the church, as he spoke to Samuel. "Hey, I might just take you up on that. So be careful what you say." He looked around the sanctuary, still able to hear the voices of both his dad and Samuel, as the door closed behind him. "Hey, Soda. You in here? My dad's waiting for us."

Going further inside, Steve looked to his right and saw Soda on the floor beside the altar, almost hidden away in the corner. "Soda?"

Soda held still, silent even when he felt the hand on his shoulder that he knew belonged to Steve.

Steve sat close to Soda, the height of the carpeted altar creating the only distance between them. "Please talk to me, buddy. I don't like seeing you hurting either. You ought to know that. It kills me inside, man."

Soda outwardly cringed at his best friend's choice of words. "Stevie, I have to tell you something. I've been wanting to, but didn't know how. I still really don't."

"So just say it. You don't have to hide anything from me, Sodapop. Ever."

Soda laid his head down on the altar, tears filling his eyes, as he put together the words to explain what he needed to say. "I should've known. I should've known that Clara might hurt you."

"What? How could you have known?"

"One day, before you came home, I heard her on the phone. She was telling somebody they were wrong, and she'd never touch a child like that."

Remembering what both his dad and Grace had said about Clara's son, Steve pushed himself down onto the floor, so he was sitting right at Soda's side. "Listen to me, buddy. You were just a kid too. You couldn't have known what she was talking about."

"After you came home, she invited me to spend the night, and I think that was because she knew I heard." Soda's eyes closed, tears falling down his cheeks, as he kept his head on the altar, his voice growing more strained with emotion. "She said she would never to do that, especially to her own son, and I didn't know what it meant. I'm sorry."

Steve couldn't stop the tears that welled in his eyes, empathizing with the sting of childhood guilt, as he leaned closer to Soda. "You didn't know, buddy. You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you hear me? Nothing at all."

"I always remembered it, but I didn't think about it so much until just before-" Soda lifted his head up, as he realized what he'd been about to say, fearing the pain he was stirring within both himself and his best friend. "I didn't know until after you told me what she did. But if I had told someone what I heard, she couldn't have hurt you anymore."

"Please don't do that to yourself, Soda. It's okay. You were a kid. I was a kid. No one knew what was happening. Clara's the only one who did anything wrong. No one else. Not me, not my dad, not you." Steve put an arm around Soda's shoulders. "What was it you were about to say? You didn't think about it so much until just before what?"

"Just before you overdosed." Soda let the words he'd spoken to Darry weeks before spill out, his tears not stopping. "You pulled me away from her. But I couldn't save you then. I know what's going on now, and I still can't save you! I keep thinking that maybe if it had happened to me too, I could've told, then it would've been all over, and you couldn't have ever hurt so bad."

Steve stared at Soda for a moment, tears falling down his face too, as he heard him sob. He leaned his head against his friend's, the thought of him going through what he had making him ache even more inside. "Buddy, please don't say that. I would never want you to go through that. Never. And you know better than anyone how hard it was for me to tell, why I never did. You might not have either."

Soda laid his head on Steve's shoulder, hiding his face, the pain so clear in his voice. "But I don't want you to die cause of what she did to you! You already almost did! Don't you know I couldn't take it? I'd do anything to stop you from feeling like that. Anything to stop you from deciding you want to die."

Steve wrapped both arms around Soda, forming a hold no force of guilt or fear could break. "I'm not going anywhere, Sodapop. I'm not dying."

"I still remember that day you were holding the bottle of pills, Stevie. Except it's different in my head now. I come in and you're swallowing them or sick or just- Gone."

"I'm so sorry for that. But I swear I'm not going to hurt myself again. Please hear me, buddy. Please."

"You're my best friend, and I need you. I told God I don't know what I would do, and I really don't."

"I promise I'm not going anywhere. Even when it gets hard, okay? You got it?"

Soda nodded, keeping his head on Steve's shoulder, as he hugged him back. "I got it. And you know I'm here when it gets hard. I know I've said that a lot, but I want you to know I mean it."

Hearing those words, Steve squeezed Soda as tight as he dared. "I hope you know I love you, buddy. I know it's not something we usually say, but you've told me too when I needed to hear it. I love you so damn much."

Soda smiled, as he sniffled, wiping tears from his cheeks, thought he didn't yet break the embrace. "You just cursed in church, man."

"Ah, well, God's heard worse. I know he has." Steve released Soda, as he felt him start to pull away. "You going to be all right now, man?"

"Yeah. I think so. I just needed you to hear all that, I guess. It's been tearing me up inside."

"I'm here for you, as much as you are for me, you know." Steve glanced toward the door of the church, remembering both his dad and Samuel must still be outside waiting for them. He lifted himself up off the floor, reaching his hand out to Soda. "Before we go, I want to tell you one more thing too."

Soda took the offered hand, getting to his feet. "What's that?"

Stevie saw colored light pouring through the stained glass windows, glowing shadows scattered on the carpet around the sanctuary, as he kept his hold on Soda's hand, squeezing it. "You and my dad have had my back all the time, even when I didn't want you to. And I know you both always will, no matter what else happens. That's why I'm still here, buddy. That saved me."


	46. Chapter 46

A/N : Writing this story is such a huge blessing to me right now! It and anyone reading are a bright spot in a week that's turning out to be very difficult. Thank you!

Nora_ watched Christopher shovel sand into the back of a toy truck, before turning to Nathan. "It's been a long time since I've even spoken to Clara."_

_ Nathan saw his son move the truck forward, pushing it near a hole he'd dug. "That's one reason I thought I could bring Christopher here for a while."_

_ "I think she's always going to hate me because of how things were. I hated myself back then. Jesse and I were both awful parents. We were awful people."_

_ "I still can't get over how she acted, saying she loves Christopher and she wouldn't hurt him. And blaming Jesse?"_

_ "She'll blame him for anything. I know I blamed him for a lot when Clara was a child, but I wasn't much better."_

_ Nathan watched Christopher place some rocks in the hole, before beginning to cover them with sand. "That's no excuse for what she did though. I can't believe a mother doing that to her own little boy. There's something terribly wrong with Clara to even think of it." He saw his son finish burying the rocks, smoothing the sand over with a plastic shovel. "I hope he's going to be okay. It worries me to think of how he must be feeling, even though I can't begin to imagine._

_ "You did the best thing. You got him away from her." Nora thought of her daughter, as she stared at Christopher, her own mistakes as a mother crystal clear. "He knows you love him. He can see that, so he'll be all right."_

* * *

Steve sat with one leg crossed over his lap, fingers twisting his shoe laces. "It was weird, but I don't know. It was kind of a good thing. Sometimes, I get afraid I'll do something again." He pulled on the string, making the lace knot undo itself. "And I can't if I'm just sitting there like that."

Laura watched Steve wrap the loose laces around his fingers. "Are you feeling nervous right now?"

"Kind of. I'm not sure why. But I know ever since I talked to Grace, it's like it's been harder to get words out."

"You told me earlier about the conversation with Grace. You said she told you a lot about what happened with Clara, that you asked her questions."

"Yeah. I don't think it's easy for her to talk about either. I wasn't even there and-" Steve retied the shoe lace, before letting his foot drop to the floor. "Is it okay if I stand up?"

"Of course it is, Steve."

Steve stood up, his feet pacing back and forth on the carpet in front of the window in Laura's office. "It's crazy, right? I had that flashback, then all this stuff in my head Friday night. Then, I had to be still. Now, I just can't be."

"It's not crazy at all. You're not always going to react the same way to everything you're feeling or thinking."

"Maybe it helped that my dad was hugging me, and Soda was holding onto my hand. Like anchors, you know? So all I had to do was just be."

Laura watched Steve move across the office again, then back, stopping right in front of the window. "I understand. Would you like to tell me more about what Grace told you?"

Steve faced the window and put both hands on the yellow curtains that hung over it, drawing them all the way open. "I never thought about bleeding to death. That sounds painful, and I wanted to get away from the pain."

"Did Clara bleed to death?"

"Yeah. She did. She took a knife and cut herself." Steve blinked his eyes rapidly, before clenching them shut. "I wasn't there, but it's like I can remember. Like I can see it."

"What is it exactly that you feel you can see?"

Steve opened his eyes, his hands holding onto the soft edges of the curtains. "Her body. Grace said she was on the bed. And there's blood on her. On a knife. All over the place."

"Is this what you were thinking about on Friday night too?"

"Yeah. I kind of said it once I could talk. Well, I said enough that I knew Soda and my dad would get it. But the flashback I had right before that- It's not what they would think. I mean, some of it was, but not all."

"Okay. Your flashbacks usually consist of memories of the abuse. What was different about this one?"

Steve let go of the curtains, his hands moving up to rub his temples. "Sometimes, it felt like I was there with Clara, but then, other times, I felt like I was back in my car, taking all those pills. Or waiting to die, then panicking because I realized what I'd just done."

"Do you believe that learning details of Clara's death brings back the memories of your own suicide attempt?"

"It wasn't like I'd forgotten anyway because it hasn't even been long, but yeah. Then, I think about how she must've felt because I know how I felt. I know how scared I got." Steve turned around to face Laura, a hand gripping the edge of the window sill. "But there's kind of other stuff too that I've been thinking about again. It doesn't have anything to do with any of this though."

"What else have you been thinking about, Steve? Maybe I can help you understand how it could be related to what you're going through now."

"I told you about Dallas and Johnny."

"Yes. You told me about your friends."

"And Johnny stabbing that guy in the park when he tried to drown Ponyboy."

"Right."

"Then, Johnny dying in the hospital and Dallas getting shot down in the street."

"I remember. I know that was all very traumatic for you as well. Sometimes, elements of distressing experiences connect to one another in our minds. Even when they're so different."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect it, you know? But thinking about Clara dying makes me think about them dying too. Especially Dallas because I saw it happen. I saw the blood. We all did."

"You've experienced a lot of grief. In differing forms, but nonetheless."

Steve walked back to his chair, sitting down, then letting his eyes drop to the floor. "Then, I'll think about my mom and about Soda's parents. And I wonder if there's more than one reason I got scared of losing my dad."

"I could certainly see how you'd be afraid of losing another person who is important to you. When something has happened before, it makes it seem much more possible."

"Soda was even more scared about me and how I've been because of pretty much the same thing. We were talking about how we both know how it feels to lose someone and can't imagine going through it again. I hate that I came so close to putting him and my dad through that."

"It sounds like whichever trauma or loss is on your mind, you circle back to your suicide attempt."

"I guess I do. I always end up thinking about it. It's hard not to feel guilty sometimes too. I know you told me I was hurting and all, but still. I do believe you though. It's kind of like how I know that Clara's death wasn't my fault."

"Our feelings don't always line up with logical facts. As we've talked about before, trauma will distort your perceptions. Do you think hearing what happened from Grace helped you with that guilt?"

"I guess maybe it did because at least I don't just have this image of Clara, you know, touching me, then dying right after. I know what happened in between. I wasn't there, so it's not like I had the knife and- She did that." Steve lifted his eyes to look at Laura, his jumble of conflicting emotions right at the surface. "Once, I told my dad I did it too. I hurt myself too. He said it's not the same."

"What do you think he meant by that?"

"Well, I guess because he's my dad, and she hurt me. I used to think he did, but now, I know he didn't feel sad about her death at all when he heard about it. I guess he said that too because he knows I wouldn't have the pain and everything I do if she hadn't abused me."

"I would imagine your dad looks at the reasons you harmed yourself and sees that much differently. Of course, because you're his son, but also because anyone would have a more compassionate response to you, knowing the entire situation."

"Samuel said pretty much the same thing as my dad. He told me it's different because of what Clara did to me. She made herself hurt. My dad and Grace think she even abused her own kid, and Soda told me yesterday that he remembers hearing her on the phone once talking about how she'd never hurt her own son. He's been feeling bad for not saying anything about it. Like he could've figured it out, then stopped it from happening to me if he'd told somebody what she was saying."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he still couldn't have known. Clara's the only one who did anything wrong. I hate that there's so much guilt because of her. My dad's been so worried he shouldn't have let me talk to Grace. But he wasn't wrong. I told him that too. I don't want him blaming himself for everything."

"Very much like he doesn't want you to blame yourself for anything you've been through."

"Yeah, and it's been kind of hard sometimes to say certain things to him because I know he'll feel bad. Like I'm not sure I could tell him about the memories from when I overdosed being like they are." Steve turned his head to look at the window, before standing once more to walk over to it. "This isn't the same thing as that, but talking to my dad about how Clara's death happened... It's not that I can't. He'll listen to anything, and he's so understanding, no matter what I say. It just bugs me."

"What does?"

"It's not like I expect him to feel the way I do. I know he wasn't sad to hear how bad it was." Steve lifted one hand to touch the window, the warmth of daylight on his fingers, the sun in his eyes. "He told me it's okay to feel like I do. But still, it's sort of hard for me anyway when I can see how the way he feels about it is so different. It makes me wish I could be like that and not care either."

* * *

Soda gripped the dish towel he held, his nails digging into the material so hard, it made his fingers ache. "They got no right to be talking about him like that! Not at all. Damn it. They don't know what he's been through."

Pony closed the notebook he had out on the table. "I'm sorry, Soda. Maybe I shouldn't have told you."

Soda threw the towel in the sink, running a hand through his hair. "No, Pone. I knew about it anyway. I just didn't know exactly what got said."

"I felt bad for not saying something to them, you know? Cause Steve's part of our gang. Then, I wondered if he knew, and I got worried because I know he's been going through a lot, even if I don't know exactly what."

"If I'd have been there, I might've broken somebody's nose. Man, I think I know why Steve didn't tell me all of it now."

"Is he okay, Soda?"

"He's doing all right, Pony. At least most of the time, I think."

"But you still get worried, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. Cause Steve has been going through a lot. You're sure right about that."

* * *

Patricia ran the brush through Evie's hair. "It's nice you get to go out tonight."

Evie reached for the hair pins on the bathroom counter and handed them to her friend. "Yeah. My parents don't mind, as long as my homework's done, and it's not late. Kenneth has some stuff to do this weekend, so it was better to have a date tonight."

"I'm glad you're going out with him. I didn't know if you'd want to date anyone else yet."

"Well, it's not anything serious, you know. I guess I like him, but he's just a guy."

Patricia secured the pins in Evie's hair, leaving only some of the strands loose down her back. "Still. I know you were with Steve for a while."

"Yeah. I miss him too. I can't help it. I don't like what people are saying about us either. I was kind of hoping Steve wouldn't hear any of it, but he did."

"I'm not saying it's right or anything, but I think people just wonder because you and Steve always seemed so good together. So they assume something they can't see must've gone wrong."

"Well, it did. But not like what they're talking about. Just because I won't get into our personal stuff, they make up a story."

"I guess because Steve's acted strange sometimes too, and no one knows why. I mean, I haven't seen it. It's just what I heard."

"He's been through some things lately. Things that caused us to have problems. But, really, it wasn't about our relationship at all."

"I know you well enough and heard plenty about Steve to know you two cared about each other. Still do. But I think people can be short-sighted. I know I was when you told me he broke up with you."

"What do you mean?"

"The first thing I thought was it must be because of you kissing Tommy or even because there was someone else."

"There's so much more to a relationship than that sort of stuff though. I think I've learned that. It doesn't work just because you're not trying to be with somebody else. It doesn't work just because you care about each other either."

"Exactly. The things people are saying about what went on with you two, they sound like it has to be all about sex since you seemed good otherwise. Like a happy couple. But it's not that simple, is it?"

"No. It's really not. There's a lot more stuff in life that can change a relationship." Evie touched one of the pins in her hair, her eyes looking at her reflection in the mirror. "Or even make it have to end."

* * *

Samuel had just finished bringing in the bags of groceries when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened, and Grace looked inside. "Hi, Samuel."

Samuel opened a kitchen cabinet, as he began to empty one of the bags. "Oh. Hi, Grace. If you came to see Vivian, she'll be back a little later."

Grace stepped inside, one hand touching the rose pendant around her neck. "I was looking for you, actually. I just wondered... How is Steve doing?"

"He's okay. You saw him at church yesterday."

"I know. But I didn't want to bring anything up. So I didn't even ask. But I was worried."

"He's been talking to his dad and even to me about what you told him. But he's doing all right."

"Nicholas told me after we talked that he thought it was a shock to Steve. It looked that way too. I remember right after I told him how Clara died, he was so tense and the look on his face..." Grace let the thought hang, as he hand dropped away from the rose pendant. "It was like he was in pain. And it hurt me to see it."

* * *

The wind blew, making Steve have to hold onto the sheet of paper that was full of math equations, stopping it from blowing away. As he did, he closed his eyes, the chill touching his cheeks and traveling into his lungs, while he breathed in the moving air. He then looked back down at the paper, using the pencil in his hand to write out the solution to the last problem on the page.

Once he was finished, Steve closed his math book, leaving his homework between the pages. "I know I did it to myself this time, God. But please help me anyway."

* * *

Soda lifted his mug of hot chocolate, letting it clink against Steve's. "Cheers, man."

Steve rolled his eyes, as he smiled. "Yeah. Cheers to the two tough guys, who hug and bawl our eyes out in a church."

Soda grinned back at his friend. "Yep. You better believe we're the toughest guys around."

Steve watched Soda start to sip his drink, before taking a swallow of his own. "So are you really okay now?"

"Yeah. I think I got it all out, you know? Don't worry about me, Stevie. I'm okay."

"All right. I had to check. Cause I know how it feels to keep stuff all bottled up. It's not necessarily easy even after you do start talking."

"Well, it wasn't all completely bottled up, but you're right. And I wasn't going to feel better either until I talked to you." Soda looked down at the swirling hot chocolate. "This is making me want a beer."

"Sorry. I just wanted to ask. We can talk about something else. Or we could go get a beer. I mean, I can't drink now, but I'd go with you."

"No. I didn't mean it like that. I meant I'm thinking about something Pony told me a little while ago." Soda looked at Steve, a question coming to him. "What do you mean you can't drink now? You mean cause of how you have too much before?"

"Nah. It's not that. Just because of my medicine. I'm not supposed to. Maybe one wouldn't hurt, but I don't exactly want to take any chances."

"No. I wouldn't want you to either, man. What could happen if you did drink?"

"The medicine made me drowsy when I first started taking it, and my doctor told me alcohol could make that worse."

"Oh. It doesn't make you drowsy now, does it?"

"No. Not anymore. It did again for a little bit when he increased the dose, but I started taking it at night. So it was okay for me to be sleepy then."

"Oh." Soda held the mug of hot chocolate that was only slightly warm, willing the heat to soothe the thoughts going through his mind. "Yeah. You really shouldn't take any chances with that at all."

"So what did Pony tell you?"

"Huh?"

"You said you were thinking about something Pony told you."

"Oh. Damn, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. I wasn't sure if I should bring it up."

"What, Sodapop? Bring what up?"

"The thing TwoBit told you. About what he heard. Pony overheard some shit, then he felt bad for not saying anything to stand up for you, and he was worried about you too."

"Damn it." Steve felt the heat of humiliation, as he covered his face with both hands, the mug of hot chocolate forgotten. "I wanted to forget about that. It's embarrassing, man. It's one thing to know anyone talks about us going out or breaking up, but our private business? And it's worse because of what actually _did_ happen."

"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. It ain't right."

"I mean, I know I have a lot of issues and all, but- And even though I was abused, it's not like-" Steve's hands clenched into fists. "There's nothing like that wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you at all, man. They don't know a damn thing about what they're saying."

"Why was Pony worried about me?"

"He was telling me because he didn't know if you knew. He was worried you'd be upset about it because you've been going through a lot."

"Kid still doesn't know much, does he?"

"No. Of course not, Stevie. I wouldn't tell him anything you might not want me to."

"I know that. I was just thinking out loud. It's kind of weird for him to be worried about me, huh?"

"Not really. I know you worried about him too."

"Mostly because of you."

"Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

* * *

Nicholas removed one of Steve's pills, then placed the cap on the bottle. He twisted it on, securing it, before putting the medication back in the shoe box that was tucked away in a corner on the shelf of his closet.

He put the lid on the shoe box, making sure it remained hidden from view, as he closed the closet door. Taking the single pill and the glass of water from atop his dresser, Nicholas went into Steve's bedroom. "Hey, Son. I brought you your medicine."

Steve stopped flipping through the magazine in his lap and glanced at the clock. "It's kind of early, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. Not like you have to take it yet though." Nicholas put the glass of water and the pill on Steve's dresser. "But it's here when you're ready."

"Oh. Ok." Steve looked back down at the magazine, flipping to the next page. He tried to focus on the words and pictures, but his eyes lifted up to see Nicholas, who lingered near the doorway. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still standing there like that?"

Nicholas let out a sigh. "I don't know. I guess I'm just wondering about you, and I don't know how to say it."

Steve grinned a little bit, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the magazine's pages. "I think you just did."

Nicholas put a hand in his hair, closing his eyes, as another sigh left him. "I don't know why this is so hard."

Steve closed the magazine, letting it slide onto the bed. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Nicholas thought about Steve's words from the past week, settling on a simple question. "Are you still thinking about it a lot?"

Steve looked down at the bed covers, the blue of his comforter drawing him in, as he responded to his dad. "Am I still thinking about what a lot?"

Nicholas moved to sit down in front of Steve, a courage rising in him. "Clara's death. You haven't really said anything else about it since Friday night."

Steve nodded, his eyes still on the comforter, the verse on Rose's nearby quilt flitting through his mind. "Not as much maybe, but yeah. Can we not do this, Dad? Please?"

Nicholas could hear the vulnerability in Steve's voice, much like he had the Friday night before, the sound bringing him back to the moments when his son had still been trying to bring himself back into the present and, at the same time, express what was going on in his mind. "Okay. It's okay, Son. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I sounded like a little kid the other night, didn't I? You know, when I came to your room later?"

"You sounded like you needed someone to be there for you. That's all."

"Yeah. I did. I meant what I said at church. I really felt God's presence, Dad. I mean, I guess I can't explain how I know. But I do. It helped me feel calmer somehow, and I sure needed that. It's like he was there with me as much as you were."

* * *

The canned drink landed with a thud, and Steve reached through the machine's door to retrieve it. "I don't know, man. I don't think I'm really up for any dates at all, especially a double date. It's..." He popped open the can. "complicated."

TwoBit leaned on the vending machine, studying Steve. "All right. Just thought I'd ask. Hey, whatever happened with Soda and that one girl?"

"You mean Suzie? Eh, I don't think he's talked to her anymore in a while."

"Maybe I'll ask him then. Kathy doesn't like to go out just the two of us anymore."

"Why not?"

"I think she likes having another girl around to talk to when she gets tired of me."

* * *

Soda lifted a tire off the top of the stack and rolled it toward a Chevy in the middle of the garage.

Steve spoke from the doorway. "Hey, man."

Soda slid the jack under the Chevy. "Hey. I just have to finish getting this tire on here. Did Mr. Coleman already leave?"

"Yeah. He just did." Steve touched his pocket, realizing it was empty. "I'll be right back. I think I left my keys in the car."

Soda turned his attention back to the jack and the old tire he needed to replace. "All right, buddy."

Steve left the garage, walking back out to the DX parking lot. He glanced toward the gas pumps, as he went in the direction of his car, stopping beside it. He opened up the Ford's passenger side door and leaned in to see his keys were in the center between the front seats.

As Steve reached for them, a moment flashed through his mind, making him start to sweat, the concrete of the parking lot suddenly the gravel of his driveway. His fingers closed around the keys, the jagged metal that was cold to his shaky touch becoming an empty medication bottle.

Steve stayed there, the seconds ticking slowly by. "Just take the keys and go. That's over. You lived through it."

He picked the keys up and dropped down into the seat, leaning back against it, the door still open. "What am I supposed to do here, God?"

But I know that answer, Steve thought. I know I can't bury these memories. That won't work this time either. He stared through the windshield, the white clouds on the other side of the glass taking on a deep red hue that mirrored the color in his thoughts. He blinked, making the image of blood flee from his immediate consciousness. I can't lock them up and throw away the key.

* * *

Nicholas set the clean forks in a section of the silverware drawer, before picking up the spoons he'd just dried. "I'm not sure, Son. I don't remember either."

Steve rinsed off his plate, before dropping it into the sink. "You usually remember all kinds of stuff from when I was a kid. You're like a human catalog or something."

"Hey, I'm getting old. Maybe something is out of order."

Steve felt a smile cross his face, then it disappeared, as he looked in the open silverware drawer. "Dad?"

Nicholas set the last spoon in the stack, before closing the drawer. "What?"

"Did you hide the knives or something?"

Nicholas released his grip on the drawer's handle, putting his hand on the Steve's shoulder. "Yes. I did, Son."

"When? Is it because- Did you do it after I talked to Grace?"

"No. It's been a while. I didn't know if you'd noticed."

"I didn't. Not til just now." Steve's eyes moved away from the drawer to look at Nicholas, as he grinned at him. "But I don't spend as much time in the kitchen as you do."

Nicholas grinned back at his son. "No. I guess you don't." He squeezed Steve's shoulder, before letting go of him. "I got really worried, and putting away anything I thought could be dangerous was something to do when I felt like there wasn't a lot I could do to keep you safe."

"Oh. But I really didn't, Dad. I never even thought-" Steve looked down at the tile floor, suddenly conscious of Nicholas' gaze that remained on him. "I just want you to know I never wanted to do that."

"I do know, Son. But I also know how fast things can change."

"Yeah. I guess I know that too."

Nicholas leaned to meet Steve's eyes. "It's okay. I'm not trying to say I think you'll hurt yourself again. I'm only saying I want to protect you."

"Yeah. I get that. I mean, I do still have the thoughts sometimes so..."

Nicholas slung an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Hey, you want to watch some TV with me? I think there's a movie on. We can see which one."

Steve looked up at Nicholas. "Sure, Dad. We can do that."

"And I think there's ice cream in the freezer. We can watch the movie and eat. Or we can take out those board games that are shoved in the hall closet."

A laugh started to bubble out of Steve, as an image popped into his mind. "Yeah, then we can do each other's hair and makeup. We'll have a real tuff time."

Nicholas chuckled, the sound of Steve's laughter making him nearly forget the so recent moments of seriousness. "Then, we'll have a pillow fight or two."

Steve let out a breath of relief, the burdens lifted for the time being. "And I'll win because, like you said, you're getting old and out of order."

* * *

_Jesse watched his daughter packing a suitcase. "Where do you think you're going?"_

_ Clara held up a dress, before folding it, putting it neatly in a stack of clothes. "Away from here."_

_ "Don't go looking for Nathan and Christopher, Clara. I'm warning you."_

_ Clara smiled, as she went toward her father. "You think I'm still scared of you?"_

_ "You ought to be after what you did to my grandson. You should be ashamed of yourself. I know I'm ashamed of you."_

_ Clara laughed, standing mere inches from Jesse, her gaze steady on him. "Of me? You're ashamed of me?"_

_ "Damn right I am. What's wrong with you?"_

_ "Nothing. Nothing at all is wrong with me. I love my son. So, say what you will. I'm going to find him. My mother didn't walk away from you when she should have. But I am now. You don't have power over me anymore."_

* * *

The credits played on the television screen, as Steve looked over at Nicholas, who was fast asleep against the arm of the couch, soft snores coming from his mouth. "Dad, you sleep like a damn log when you're not so worried about me."

Steve turned his gaze to the coffee table, where they'd left their bowls and spoons, the remnants of vanilla ice cream still present. Beside them was the box from the game of Yahtzee they had played earlier, the score papers and set of five dice on top of it, along with the shaker cup.

Steve reached for two of the dice. Cupping his hands around them, he shook them, making the marked sides tumble around. He then held still and closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers remaining closed around the pair of dice.

The sound of his dad's snoring still in his ear and the television now quiet, Steve opened his eyes again. He started to loosen his grasp, then looked up, searching at the same time he surrendered, letting the dice roll out of his hands.


	47. Chapter 47

A/N Merry Christmas, everyone! I couldn't wait to share this chapter once I finally got done typing it tonight:)

Also, I do not own the book "Karlson on the Roof." Astrid Lindgren wrote it in 1955.

_Christopher held his copy of "Karlson on the Roof" on his lap, reading the imaginary adventures. He pulled the book closer, picturing the characters' antics, when his bedroom door opened._

_ Nathan looked in to see his son, a cartoon decorated blanket tucked around his middle, the book he was reading open close to his chest, the boy's eyes so focused on the page, he seemed lost in the story. "Good book?"_

_ Christopher nodded, his eyes not leaving the words that painted a fantasy._

_ Nathan closed the door and sat down beside Christopher, noticing when the boy wrapped the blanket tighter around his waist, a measure of protection. "I want you to know you're safe, okay? I promise."_

_ Christopher put the book face down on his lap, turning to look at Nathan. "Dad, is it okay if I miss Mom? Or even if I don't? I'm not sure."_

_ Nathan put his hand on Christopher's head, smoothing his hair. "It's okay if you miss her, Son. It's also okay if you don't."_

_ "Oh. That's good then. But if she loves me, why would she-" Christopher looked down at the cover of his book, wanting to go back to the pretend world. "I know she shouldn't have. I don't really know why. I just do. I'm right, aren't I?"_

_ "You're absolutely right, Christopher. What she did is wrong. It's not okay for her to touch you in that way."_

_ "So why did she? Doesn't she know it's wrong?"_

* * *

Steve started to lift his hand to knock, but hesitated. "Man, what am I thinking?" But he did say I could talk to him, and I have more than once before, he thought. He told me it's about being there to listen and help.

Steve was just about to rap on the door when it opened, Vivian appearing in front of him, making him stutter out an explanation. "Oh, hi. Sorry. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I just-" He covered his face with one hand. "I don't know."

Vivian gestured for Steve to step inside. "Hi. Come on in. Please don't be sorry. I was just on my way out, but I imagine you're here to see my husband."

Steve nodded, going inside the house. "Um, yeah, thanks. But if he's busy or something, that's okay. It's not a big deal."

Samuel came from down the hall, still clad in the shirt and pants he'd worn to work at the restaurant. "Oh. I thought I heard you, Steve."

Vivian pulled the front door open, then turned to Steve. ""It was nice seeing you." She waved to Samuel. "I'll be back later tonight, honey. I'll probably visit for a while after the meeting."

Samuel nodded, giving Vivian a smile, as he switched on the floor lamp in the living room. "Okay. I love you. Be careful."

Steve watched Vivian go, before he looked at Samuel. "I hope I'm not bothering you or anything. You probably just got home from work. But I want to tell you something, and I can't tell anybody else this right now."

"So I'm your last choice, huh?"

"What? No. I didn't- I didn't mean it like that."

Samuel grinned at Steve, touching his shoulder. "I'm kidding." He sat down on the sofa, motioning for Steve to join him. "Sit. Relax. Tell me what's going on."

Steve lowered himself down on the edge of the sofa, his gaze falling to his shoes. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Just say whatever is on your mind. You've talked to me before."

"I know I, um, asked you a lot of questions before about things. And it's not like anybody else can answer this. But have you ever been afraid you would hurt yourself again somehow? I know you didn't exactly mean to when you did, but..."

"Sure. I have been afraid of that, maybe especially because that's not what I set out to do." When Steve didn't speak again, the silence growing, Samuel scooted closer to him, leaning forward to see his face. "Are you feeling like you want to hurt yourself?"

"No. It's not like I don't ever think about it still but no. I'm not like that right now. I just get scared I could be sometimes, you know? I've actually talked about that a lot, so it's not even what I'm wanting to tell you."

"Okay."

"Both Sodapop and my dad have cried lately, telling me, uh, how much I mean to them, I guess. I promised them I'm not going to hurt myself again."

"All right. Are you afraid you could break that promise?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. But I meant what I said. I think I'm more determined that ever, but I'm kind of having a hard time with the memories of my overdose."

"A hard time how?"

Steve let himself sit back against the sofa cushion, looking at Samuel, then down at his hands that refused to be still. "I feel like I'm there again. Like the flashbacks I have. You know about those, right? You've seen it a couple times."

"Yes. I know what you're talking about, and your dad explained it to me once. So they make you feel like you're reliving what happened?"

"Yeah. It can seem so real. I guess I'm better at knowing how to cope with them than I used to be. I know what to do to get through them anyway. But it can still be real bad sometimes."

"I haven't experienced what you're talking about, Steve, but even so, I know how powerful memories can be. Especially painful ones."

"These memories are different though. Cause I'm the one who made them. I did it to myself this time."

"That doesn't mean it can't be hard for you though." Samuel rested a hand on Steve's arm, his voice both firm and compassionate. "Or that you deserve it, if that's what you're thinking."

"I know I need to talk about what I'm remembering. That's what I had to do with the memories of the abuse to be able to handle them better and, you know, understand them." Steve glanced at Samuel once more, meeting his gaze, before giving in to the urge to look away, imagining that his own eyes betrayed the need he felt to be transparent. "But I haven't told anybody all of it."

"I would imagine that's very hard. So I understand."

"It is. But that's not even the only reason. My dad wouldn't be able to handle it. Sodapop couldn't either. I can talk to both of them about anything, but they don't need this."

"Of course it's up to you who you talk to about things, but from what I've seen, both of them would want to listen to you, even if it's tough to hear. Anything to help you."

"You're right. They would. But I don't want to hurt either of them anymore. I could tell my counselor. That's what she's there for. Obviously. She knows the memories of my overdose are bothering me like this, but I didn't tell her much more than that."

"Why not?"

Steve closed his eyes, thought he didn't feel even a sign of a tear, certain Samuel would be able to see the chance he was taking, the fragile place he was putting himself in by being sincere. "Because it's not the same. She helps a lot. Sometimes, I tell her things I think or feel I wouldn't say anywhere else. But it's... It's her job."

"It's not the same as having a friend listen to you."

"Yeah. I mean, I guess she cares. But it's different. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to think about where I'd be without her. She's there for me. It's just not in the same way, and it's not like she can tell me about herself. That'd be really weird."

"So you need some empathy too." Samuel waited for Steve's next reply, though the picture was becoming clear to him. When it didn't come, he noticed the boy had turned his head, a framed photo of Matthew and himself directly in his line of vision. "My wife took that one of us. It was a fun day."

"He looks like you."

Samuel put a hand on Steve's back, as he also looked at the photo, the eternal image of Matthew making him smile, even while it also created the desire to weep. "You can talk to me about what you remember, Steve. I'll listen to everything. And we can share the memories."

* * *

_Nora watched Christopher pump his legs, making the swing in the backyard take him higher into the air. She heard the doorbell ring, the sound drawing her away from the view at the window. "Coming!"_

_ The bell rang again, just as Nora turned the knob and opened the door, the face before her one she hadn't seen for some time. "Clara, what are you doing here?"_

_ Clara didn't make a move to come inside, remaining in the doorway, a slight grin on her face. "Is that the way you greet your only daughter?"_

_ Thinking of Christopher in the backyard, Nora's voice took on a tone that didn't fit the person she'd become, channeling the sense of protection she wished she'd had for her own daughter decades ago. "You don't need to be here."_

_ Clara laughed. "And why not? I'm just walking away from my father. In the way that you never could."_

_ "There are a lot of things you never did understand. About both me and your father. I'm sorry for how your childhood was. You'll never accept any apology I give you, but that's been over."_

_ Clara scoffed. "What didn't I understand?" She didn't wait for a reply, the memories of the violence something she'd chosen to overcome with her own control. "Where's Christopher? I know you talked to Nathan."  
_

_"You don't know anything."_

_ "I want to see my son."  
_

_"You don't have that right anymore, Clara."_

_ The derision was apparent in Clara's laughter. "You sound like my father."_

_ "It's the truth. I should have protected you. Maybe if I had, you wouldn't have turned out this way. But there's nothing I can do about that now. However, I can make sure you don't harm my grandson."_

_ "Your grandson? He's my son!"_

_ "You're an even worse mother than I was. But at least I can admit that. I don't see any hope for you, Clara. Don't come back here again, or I'll call the police."_

_ "The police? This is a family matter! Christopher must be here then." Clara attempted to move past Nora, craning her neck to see inside. "Where is he? Where's Nathan?"_

_ Nora turned her head to see through the window where she'd been watching Christopher. He was no longer on the swing, but walking toward the back door, about to come in the house. She looked at Clara again, regret for the past washing over her, along with resolve for the present. "Like I said, don't come back." She closed the door and locked the deadbolt, tuning out any protest Clara may have had, as she went to meet Christopher, his voice calling out to her._

* * *

Steve could feel his body shake, as he put the memories of the moments he'd tried to end his own life into words. "So after I took all of them, I stayed in the car. I thought I'd just go to sleep right there. But I didn't feel anything at first."

Samuel tried to keep himself from shivering at the image Steve was describing. He stayed close to him, remembering how much the presence of others had appeared to help when the memories became too real.

"It felt really strange to take that many pills. I still remember how they felt in my mouth, then I don't know how I didn't choke when I swallowed them. They were kind of big. Coke doesn't taste right anymore. It probably never will."

Samuel saw the way Steve was shaking, noticing it was getting worse, as he talked through the desperate moments. He touched his shoulder, his hand gripping it tightly. "Only keep going if you want to."

Steve nodded, the trembling sensation slightly calmed. "I know. But I have to. I need to do this."

"Okay."

"I remember kind of looking around and wondering if I was really still here. Like maybe I'd died and was just dreaming. I decided to get out of the car and go in the house, and I kept thinking about what I'd just done. It didn't really hurt yet though cause I still felt okay. I was awake. I could walk. I could still feel all the pain. Then, I wondered if taking the pills was a dream."

Samuel waited for Steve to continue, keeping the hand on his shoulder, imagining the contact was both a physical connection to the present and comfort he needed.

"I actually went back to my car and picked up the medicine bottle to check if I'd really done it. When I saw it was empty, I told myself I had, still trying to think I'd fall asleep and not feel anything soon. I thought I'd be dying any second, and the memories of the abuse hurt as much as they ever had."

Samuel reminded himself to breathe, as he remembered his own encounter with unconsciousness, able to predict that was the same journey into oblivion Steve had been seeking.

"I went in the house and laid down on the couch for a long time. I told myself if I just waited, maybe I would finally go to sleep. But I never did. I remember when my stomach first started to hurt, and I got nauseous. I still kept laying there. I guess maybe I thought it was happening then. I even held my breath as long as I could, like I thought I would die faster if I didn't breathe."

Samuel held back the tears in his eyes, a pain that went beyond empathy flowing through him, as he listened to this young boy talking about the desire for death, for relief, that had fueled the urge to act on the suicidal impulse. Thank God you kept breathing, he thought. Thank God I know how this ends.

"My stomach kept hurting more and more. Then, I thought of my dad finding me dead. I asked God to help me that time. I didn't want him to take me anymore, like I'd prayed before I took the pills. I told him I was sorry."

Samuel felt a tear fall down his cheek, immeasurably grateful for the unanswered prayer, at the same time his heart ached for the pain Steve had endured.

"I wasn't sure what to do at first, and it kind of hit me what I'd done, what could be happening. I could be dying. I didn't ask for help, like I'd told my dad and Sodapop I would. I didn't listen to my counselor. I felt like I was going to throw up, and the pain was getting worse. I had no idea it would be like that."

Samuel saw the tears on Steve's face, though his voice didn't tremble in response to the emotion. He could still see his hands shaking, as he put his arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I'm so glad you called for help. I don't even have the words for it."

"I was so scared. I remember dialing the phone, still thinking I might die. Part of me was afraid no one would answer the call. I was even afraid that God didn't hear me anymore. Like he couldn't because of what I'd done to myself"

"He never left you. Not even for a second."

"I know that now. I really do. I mean, I couldn't feel him or anything. But I know I wasn't alone. After I talked to my dad, I started throwing up. I was afraid of what might be happening in my body because I couldn't stop." Steve turned to look at Samuel, the tears on the preacher's face mirroring his own. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

"No. Don't be. It's okay. I want to help, and it's worth more than a few tears."

* * *

_Nathan sat down beside Christopher, watching him hunt among the puzzle pieces that were spread out on the dining room table._

_ Christopher picked up some pieces of similar color, attempting to fit them together. "When it's finished, it'll be a picture of a horse."_

_ Nathan smiled at his son, remembering the tears he'd shed earlier that day and hoping they weren't at all visible on his face. He picked up one of the puzzle pieces, able to see it was part of the horse's mane._

_ Christopher tried to add another piece to the section of the puzzle he'd started, finding out it didn't quite fit. He resumed his search for a matching piece, studying the shape and the color. "Dad, do you think Mom misses me?"_

_ Nathan saw a possible match to the piece of the puzzle he still held in his hand. He picked it up, the shapes a perfect fit. He stared at the beginning of the horse's mane, uncertain of the right answer to Christopher's question. "I'm sure she does, Son."_

_ Christopher put together two pieces that he could see were forming part of the horse's tail. "Do you miss her?"_

_ Nathan felt the tears return to his eyes, not even sure about his own emotions. He put the matching pair of puzzle pieces down on the table, leaving them to lie beside the beginning of the horse's face, realizing he did know one thing, as he kissed Christopher's head. "I love you, Son, and you're safe. That's all I care about."_

* * *

Steve continued to put his memories into words, moving on to the sequence of events after Nicholas had come to help him. "I hardly even remember the drive to the hospital. I felt really funny. But after my dad got to me, I knew he'd do anything he had to. I totally trusted him to take care of me."

Samuel imagined Nicholas' urgency, knowing it matched the man he'd gotten to know. "Your dad would move mountains for you. It didn't take me any time at all to see that in him."

"He stayed right with me in the hospital too. I was crying, while everything was happening, but I remember thinking I was so calm. I answered every question the doctor asked me. Maybe I was kind of numb and just doing what I had to do. I didn't care about anything, except knowing I'd live. I thought they'd ask me why I did it, but no one did."

"They were just focused on saving your life. I was unconscious when I got to the hospital. I don't remember anything until I woke up, and even that is kind of blurry."

"They had to pump my stomach, and I remember it, but it's kind of a weird memory. My dad had to leave the room, and that probably bothered me the most. They put this tube down my throat, but it didn't really hurt. It was just uncomfortable, but it helped when one of the nurses explained what was happening. I knew it was helping me, so that made it not seem as bad."

"They didn't have to do that with me. Mostly just had to make sure I was hydrated and keep an eye on me. I know I never stopped breathing, but my heartbeat was pretty off when Vivian found me, and my blood sugar was dropping. It actually could've been a whole lot worse."

"I know I could've been a lot worse too. They let my dad back in with me after they gave me the charcoal stuff. It tasted terrible, and it made me feel sicker. Sometime after that, I fell asleep and didn't wake up for a while."

"I'm sure you needed the rest. You went through an awful lot in a short amount of time."

Steve's mind shifted, making him focus on the time after he'd been treated for the overdose, his tone one of reflection. "I remember waking up and seeing my dad there beside me. The first thing I said to him was please don't leave. I guess part of me was afraid because of what I'd put him through."

"I know he wasn't even thinking about leaving your side."

"I was so tired, we only talked for a minute, but I made sure I told him I love him and to please forgive me. By the next time I woke up, I couldn't even imagine wanting to die."

"When I woke up and Vivian was there holding my hand, I felt so guilty. The first thing I did was apologize to her. She told me to rest, which was exactly what I still wanted to do. I didn't want to be awake yet. Much like your dad is with you, she didn't leave my side. She just loved me, and that was something I know I needed more than anything else at that time."

* * *

_Nathan closed the door to the bedroom he was sharing with Christopher, planning to join his sleeping son later on in the evening. He went down the hallway, finding Nora at the front of the house. "Christopher's asleep. What did you want to talk about?"_

_ Nora held a steady gaze on the window in front of her, not sure what she should expect. "Clara came by today."_

_ Nathan settled himself into the nearer of the two armchairs in the room. "Okay. So what happened? Christopher didn't see her, did he? He would've told me."_

_ Nora pulled her eyes away from the view of the empty front yard. "No. He didn't. He was outside playing. I sent her away."_

_ "What did she say?"_

_ "Just a lot of things about her father. Then, she asked where Christopher was and where you were. I told her to leave, or I'd call the police."_

_ "She won't come back here."_

_ "You think she'll give up so easily?"_

_ "Yes. Because she doesn't want anyone else to know what really happened. As much as she likes to pretend she doesn't understand, she knows she's wrong and how bad this is. She wouldn't have hidden it if she didn't, and she wouldn't deny it or blame Jesse or anyone else. Even if she actually sees what she did to Christopher as okay, she knows no one else ever will."_

_ "When I said I'd call the police, she said this was a family matter. Do you think she believes that?"_

_ "Maybe. But she knows they wouldn't see it like that. She won't involve anyone else, and she doesn't want you to either."_

_ Nora sat down in the remaining armchair, facing Nathan. "You're not worried she'll get a lawyer or something and try to take Christopher?"_

_ "No. Like I said, she doesn't want anyone else to know. She's only concerned about herself. He's her son, but she'll let him go if that means she can stop the truth from getting out. He's staying with me, and he never has to see her again."_

* * *

Steve turned his next thoughts over in his mind, searching for the words that would express them, steering the conversation away from the layers of common ground he shared with Samuel. Yet, the words to delve into the territory that was his alone eluded him, as his eyes filled with fresh tears that didn't wait to fall.

Samuel kept a grip on Steve's shoulder, just as he had earlier. "Hey. It's okay. Did I say something I shouldn't have? I'm sorry if I did."

"No. You didn't. It's not that."

"What is it then? I know we've been talking about some very difficult things."

"I don't know if this is ever going to stop."

"What do you mean?"

Steve struggled to speak over the weight on his chest. "The flashbacks. Any of them. I don't know if they'll ever stop."

"You told me it helps to talk about what you remember."

"It does. But that doesn't make them stop." Steve lifted his arm to wipe his face, tears wetting his shirt sleeve. "They didn't happen much for a little bit, but they came back. That's one reason I overdosed. I wanted to stop remembering. But now-"

Samuel could hear the catch in Steve's voice, as he was unable to finish his thought, recognizing all too well the sound that told of a strengthening need to just let go and weep. "It's okay if you cry all over me, you know."

Steve didn't attempt to speak anymore, only hugging Samuel back when he felt his arms wrap around him.

As Samuel held Steve, audible sobs coming from him, the moment nudged his memory, bringing to mind his time with Nicholas in the hospital chapel. He closed his eyes, a prayer coming from his lips. "Father, in the name of Jesus, I know you see the tears. Even more than that, you can feel the pain too. Help Steve keeping holding onto you and know that you're here to carry him through, even when it hurts. God, I've watched him seeking you, looking to you for strength, trusting you, even though he's suffering with these feelings and memories. He believes in you. Surround him with your presence and power, as he lays his struggles before you, and bring him peace."

Samuel opened his eyes, his memory nudging him once more. He looked at Steve, the tears that remained not stopping recognition from dawning on him and making him able to see the path being created. "Please, God, help him keep healing."

* * *

_Clara sat in the wooden rocking chair, the motion of it moving her back and forth, the partially unpacked suitcase next to her feet. "I can start all over."_

_ She looked around the small bedroom that was where she'd lay her head down to sleep tonight, the glare of her ego unscathed by recent events. "I already have."_

* * *

Nicholas, his hair still damp from a recent shower, pulled open his dresser drawer, hearing the clanging sound of the metal handle at the same time he saw Steve in the hallway. "Hey. You just get home, Son?"

Steve unzipped his jacket, as he stood in Nicholas' bedroom doorway. "Uh, yeah. I was just talking to Samuel, Dad. That's all."

Nicholas picked out a blue t-shirt, then gripped the top edge of the drawer, before he looked up to see the redness around Steve's eyes and the flush of his cheeks. "That's fine. I was just asking, Son. I worked a little later myself. Are you okay?"

"I think so. I know I don't really look like it, do I?"

Nicholas closed the drawer, making the metal handle clang once more. "I can tell you've been crying a lot."

Steve moved the zipper up and down along its teeth. "Yeah. I guess I have."

Nicholas pulled the t-shirt over his head, sliding it on, as he sat down on the bed. "Did talking help?"

"Yeah. It did." Steve looked down at the zipper, his hands grasping the hem of the jacket.

"Steve?"

"Huh?"

"You're doing the same thing I did the other day."

"I am?"

"Yeah. You're standing there like you need to say something else. Do you?"

Steve looked up then, his fingers releasing the jacket, as a thought came to him. "Dad, can we do what we did last night again? You know, just watch TV and play a game or something too? I think I need it."

* * *

_Clara's feet moved along the parking lot's pavement, carrying her toward the grocery store down the street from where she now lived. She passed through the automatic doors, before pulling a shopping cart from the neat rows beside the entrance. She rolled the cart along, the wheels gliding over the floor, the basket quiet._

_ Clara was about to turn a corner, heading down the aisle that held shelves of baking necessities, when another cart met hers, the sound of metal crashing making her jump._

_ Clara stepped back, pulling her cart with her, as she heard a man's voice, followed by that of a little boy. _

_ "You have to watch where you're going, Son."_

_ "Sorry, Dad."_

_ Clara remained in her spot, as she heard the man's voice once more, his eyes meeting hers, though his attention was still on the boy. "Sorry. Please excuse us."_

_ Clara nodded, giving him a smile. She saw he wore a shirt that identified him as a store employee, the name tag on the front reading "Nicholas."_

_ As they continued on, Clara heard the boy's voice again, followed by Nicholas' reply._

_ "What else do we need for Mom's cake, Dad?"_

_ "I think we've got everything, but let's go find her some candles, Stevie. Then, I'll let you pick her out a card."_

_ Clara watched this father and son, a fascination beginning to form. As they got farther away, she turned back to the aisle she'd been about to go down, realizing the mental shopping list was now completely forgotten._

* * *

Steve swung a pillow at Nicholas, laughter bubbling out of him, as it connected with his head. "Dad! I can't believe you just said that!"

Nicholas also laughed, as he grabbed the pillow that had just hit him. "Hey! You're not supposed to hit me. I'm out of order, remember?"

"You forgot old. You're old too." Steve ducked, the pillow missing his head. He stuck his tongue out at Nicholas, before beginning to laugh so hard, his eyes watered. "Aw, man, didn't I cry enough earlier?"

Nicholas smiled, his own eyes watering from a mixture of relief and joy, as he looked at Steve, then at the images playing across the television screen and the Scrabble tiles spelling out words on the game board. "Hey. So are we going to finish this or what?"

* * *

_Clara scanned the back and white print of the newspaper, the names in the obituaries none she recognized. She was about to turn to the next page when a photo caught her eye, the woman in it much younger than the others._

_ Clara read the death announcement, only finding names she recognized when it listed a husband and son as surviving family members. She stared at the letters before her, marveling at the improbable likelihood of the sign she believed she'd found._

* * *

Steve lifted the game board, making the Scrabble tiles slide off, the wooden pieces clicking together, as they landed in the box. "Damn, Dad. What are you anyway? A human dictionary?"

Nicholas looked at the mixed up tiles that had spelled out the words on the game he'd won, as he picked up the sheet of paper they'd used to keep track of points "Something like that, Son."

Steve folded the game board and put it in the box, setting the lid on top. "Hey, I'm not trying to kill the mood or anything, but I'm kind of wondering something."

"Wondering what?"

"Does it bother you when I talk to Samuel?"

Nicholas put the score sheet down on top of the Scrabble box, his eyes studying the rows of words and numbers. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I just mean that both times I've told you I talked to him, I got this funny feeling, and you had a look on your face kind of like you wanted to say something."

"It's fine for you to talk to him, Son. It's a good thing. Samuel's an incredible friend."

"I know it's fine. But that doesn't mean it can't still bother you. You can tell me if it does, Dad. I know you better than you think."

"It doesn't bother me that you talk to Samuel. I'm glad you can." Nicholas' eyes lifted to meet Steve's, able to see the concern on his son's face, his expression holding no hint of resentment. "It just bothers me to think there are times you won't talk to me. Or even things you can't talk to me about."

Steve touched Nicholas' hand, a reassurance of secure connection. "Dad, I know I can come to you with anything. Please don't worry. I haven't stopped talking to you. And I never will."

* * *

_Clara pushed her shopping cart, moving it along next to the shelves of lunch meat and dairy. She turned her head slightly when she heard a voice speaking from behind her._

_ "We're sure going to miss you around here, Nicholas."  
_

_Clara's ears perked up, as she heard his name again. She listened for his reply._

_ "Yeah, I think it's best for me and Steve if I take the job I was offered at the other store."_

_ Clara backed up a couple of steps, the cart moving with her, as she heard the other voice once more, followed by Nicholas', the conversation continuing._

_ "You have to do what's best for the two of you. You deserve the promotion anyway. I hope it works out."_

_ "Thanks. Me too. It's been a rough few months without my wife. I can't tell you how much Steve and I miss her. It's hard to believe that can ever get easier when I still can't even believe she's gone."_

_ "How is Steve doing anyway?"_

_ "Well, like I said, he misses his mom. Other than that, he's as okay as can be expected. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him."_

_ Clara absorbed the loneliness in Nicholas' voice and the grief seeping out of his tone. She imagined his little boy without a mother, seeing a twisted and marred reflection of her own experience in that of this father and son who weren't even yet aware she existed._

* * *

Steve passed through the doors leading out of the hospital, finding that despite the routine nature of his weekly doctor's appointment, he was being pulled in the opposite direction of where his car was parked. He felt his feet carrying him across the middle lot and toward the one of greatest urgency.

Several weeks had passed, but Steve recognized the painted white lines Nicholas had driven his car between, the space currently unoccupied. He saw the distance as no obstacle as he drew closer to the area around the building with the sign of glowing red letters that spelled out "EMERGENCY."

Steve didn't slow his steps until his feet touched the same white line they had that day, as he got out of the car, Nicholas at his side. He stood in the center of it and looked at the double doors they'd gone through, the glass allowing him to see into the emergency room.

Steve walked along the white line on which he'd been standing, then onto the curb that stretched into a short sidewalk. He followed the concrete that led to the ER entrance, the path much shorter than it had seemed in his moments of desperation.

He stopped in front of a bench that was just feet in front of the doors, its legs anchored in the grass. He sat down on it, his fingers wrapping around the metal slats beneath him, as he gazed through the glass that separated the emergency room from the outside world.

* * *

_Clara's finger turned the rotary dial, entering the digits of a patient's phone number. She tapped on the desk, as she listened to the line ring. When there was no answer, she placed the phone receiver back in its cradle, then made a note on the contact list beside a stack of file folders._

_ Clara rolled her chair over in front of the typewriter, eyeing the place she'd last left off, as she put her hands on the keys. She quickly typed one letter after another, the click-clack sound all she could hear._

_ "Excuse me?"_

_ Clara looked up from the keys, putting a wide smile on her face, as she recognized one of the patients on today's appointment roster. "Good morning, Mr. Walker." She stood to her feet, reaching to hand the man the pen and clipboard to sign himself in. "I've been worried about you."_

_ Mr. Walker kept one hand pressed to his jaw, as he smiled at Clara, taking the pen to jot down his name and arrival time. "No need to worry about me. I'll be fine once I see Dr. Parker. I'm telling you, I should've gotten this one filled last time."_

_ "I'm sure he'll take great care of you today, and that tooth won't give you anymore problems at all." Clara glanced down the hall, where Dr. Parker had taken his last patient minutes before, the smile still bright on her face when she turned back to Mr. Walker. "He should be out very soon. Is there anything you need while you wait? I'm more than happy to help."_

* * *

The lock slid into place, the metal latch keeping the stall door securely closed, as Steve leaned into it. He felt the chains of nausea twist around in his stomach, the ache reaching a peak that he'd been able to see coming since he had walked the path from the ER doors to his car.

Steve slid down beside the toilet, his knees pressed into the hard tile floor. He fought the physical assault of the memories he was confronting, not finding any relief until the familiar nausea prevailed and won the battle.

* * *

_Clara handed Mr. Walker a card with the time and date of his next appointment. "Here you go. We'll see you next time."_

_ Mr. Walker took the card, giving Clara a nod and a smile. "Hopefully, this is the next time I have to come. No offense to you or Dr. Parker, but I think I've had enough for the year."_

_ Clara waved him off, as she took her seat in front of the typewriter. "Oh! None taken. You have a great rest of your day, Mr. Walker." She resumed tapping on the keys, as he exited the building, only looking up when Dr. Parker emerged from the back of the office. "Hi. I'll be done with this any minute now. It's been a long morning, hasn't it?"_

_ Dr. Parker put the file folder he was holding in the stack on the desk. "Yes. It has. You can go on to lunch, Clara."_

_ "Thank you. I am getting hungry." Clara got to her feet, before leaning to kiss Dr. Parker on the cheek. "You just have no idea."_

* * *

Soda handed his last customer her change, before looking out the window, where he saw Steve in his car. "What are you doing out there, man?" He glanced at the clock, though the time was of less concern to him than the expression on Steve's face that seemed strangely familiar in a way he couldn't yet fully identify.

After a few more minutes, when his best friend still hadn't made a move to come inside, Soda pushed open the door, stepping out to yell for him. "Hey, Steve! You coming in or what?"

Steve turned his head, meeting Soda's eyes through the partially rolled down window, but giving no other response.

Soda went to the door of the garage. "Hey, Billy! Could you keep an eye out for a second? I need to go check on something."

Billy's voice came from inside the garage. "Sure, Sodapop. Go on ahead."

"Thanks." Soda walked out to the parking lot, quickly getting to Steve's car and opening the passenger side door. "Hey, man, what are you doing out here?"

Steve gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles nearly white, his voice only a mumble. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Soda eased himself down into the passenger seat, recognizing the tone of Steve's voice, the familiarity of his facial expression also clicking into place. "Hey, buddy. Tell me what's going on. Did something happen?"

Steve reached for the key that was still in the ignition and pulled it out, his grip growing so tight around it that the metal became like a blade to his fingers. "I'll never do it again. Please don't stop being my friend."

Soda laid one hand on Steve's back and the other on his arm. "I won't, buddy. Never. I think I know what's happening, but I still need you to tell me you're okay."

Steve's hand that was still on the steering wheel loosened its grip, his senses assured of present safety, despite the threat of the past. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive." Soda tightened his hold on Steve's arm. "Come on, buddy. You're just right here in your car. You came to work, remember?"

Steve opened the hand that had gripped his keys, seeing the marks the metal had left on his skin. "I didn't do anything, Soda. I swear. I know I promised. I meant it more than I've ever meant anything else."

"I know. And I believe you." Soda glanced at the DX building, thankful for how slow the station was at the moment. "Are you going to be all right to stay here? I don't even have to go yet either."

"I think so. I need to be. It's better to be here and have something to focus on, you know?"

"Yeah. I know, man. You don't look so good though. So I'll stay here til you're sure."

"Thanks, Soda." Steve looked down at his hand that still held the car keys, noticing that the marks his tight grip had created were nearly gone, the visible traces of the inward struggle already fading.

* * *

_Clara traced a finger along Dr. Parker's bare chest, as she smiled at him, the silk of her night gown the only cover on her own body that lie tantalizingly close to his. "I want you to make love to me now."_

_ Dr. Parker reached to caress Clara's cheek, before pressing his mouth to hers, moving to push her down onto the bed._

_ Clara kissed him back, her tongue sliding into his mouth, as she also resisted, instead placing her hands flat on his chest and climbing on top of him. She broke the kiss, as she straddled him. "You know how this works, my sweet doctor. You know I need all the control."_

* * *

Nicholas moved the broom along the kitchen tile, sweeping the glass into the waiting dust pan. "Don't worry about it, Son. It was just an accident."

Steve sat with his elbows on the table, one hand clutching the other, as he could see himself shaking. "It was. I didn't mean to."

Nicholas swept up the last of the glass, before picking up the dust pan and dumping the broken pieces of the plate into the trash can. He stared at Steve, as he leaned the broom against the counter. "I know. You just dropped it."

Steve held his eyes closed, opening them only when he felt Nicholas' hands wrap around his own. "I'm okay, Dad. I just kind of had a rough day."

"A rough day how, Son?"

"Just memories and stuff. You know what happens sometimes."

"All right. But please let me know if you want to talk." Nicholas met Steve's gaze, squeezing his hands that he'd easily seen were shaking. "Or if you need anything at all."

* * *

_Clara lie next to Dr. Parker, her fingers stroking through his hair, even as he slept. "You're mine forever, don't you know?"_

_ She wrapped an arm around him and laid her head against his chest. "You're part of me now." She closed her eyes, as she breathed in his scent. "And I'm part of you."_


	48. Chapter 48

_ A finger pressed against Nathan's lips, as he smiled at Christopher._

_ Christopher smiled back, holding in the laughter that would express the joy he was feeling._

_ Father and Son crouched together in the dark, hearing Nora's voice, as she stepped inside her house. "Nathan, are you here? I didn't know you were coming over. If I had-"_

_ "Surprise!"_

_ Nora's eyes blinked in the sudden light, a smile engulfing her face, as she took in the presence of both Nathan and Christopher. She looked at the cake in the center of the dining table, icing spelling out "Happy Birthday, Grandma." "Oh. You two. I had no idea."_

_ Christopher rushed forward and hugged Nora. "That's why it's called a surprise, Grandma!"_

_ Nathan started to light the candles that were on the cake, tiny flames flickering above the flowery decorations and frosting. "It's your birthday, and you've done everything for us."_

_ Nora sat with Christopher beside her, listening, as both he and Nathan sang "Happy Birthday" in her honor._

_ Once the song was finished, she stared at the cake, the lit candles a symbol of so much more than age. Christopher's voice interrupted her musings. "Hurry up and make a wish! You don't want the candles to melt all over the cake!"_

_ Nora drew in a breath, as she looked at Nathan's face, then at Christopher's, still able to picture a child years ago, her features resembling his, despite the darkness hidden in her heart. Nora then focused on the candles and closed her eyes, the wish made, as she extinguished the burning flames._

* * *

The pattern of the tile went in an endless loop around the floor of the hallway, the sound of the bell signaling the return of hurrying feet rushing to lockers in preparation to leave the building for the weekend.

Steve stayed to himself, ignoring the few remaining wondering looks that were even accompanied by others he knew were simply born of sympathy. Or perhaps even empathy because he wasn't the first to be the subject of twisted truths.

Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, as he walked into the courtyard and was about to snap out a reply when he turned around, realizing who was there. "Oh. Hey, Kid."

Pony followed behind Steve. "Sorry. Wasn't trying to sneak up on you or anything."

"Nah. It's fine. You want something?"

"Just wondering if I could catch a ride."

"Sure, Kid. No problem."

* * *

The traffic light changed from green to red, not affected by the growing tension that held Steve in its grip. He focused on the color, willing it to change. "Kid, it won't surprise you that this is not my favorite thing to talk about at all. And no offense, but-"

Pony interrupted, intent on saying what he'd planned. "I know I ain't Sodapop, Steve. But I- I want you to know I care. You pretty much told me the same thing once, even if you didn't exactly say it. Remember?"

"Of course I remember, and I know that. I really do."

"Don't hurt yourself again, okay? And not just because I can't stand to watch Soda in pain like that."

The light turned green, and Steve pressed on the gas pedal. "I'm not, Kid. I swear."

"Johnny talked about killing himself once. It was hard to hear him say it, and it made me feel real helpless. But after, you know, everything, he didn't want to die."

"Cause it's not about that, Ponyboy." Steve pictured their buddy, a boy who had been nearly beaten to death just for kicks, a boy who had been constantly rejected by his own parents. "I never heard him say anything like that, but I can see where it comes from. I can see it damn well."

Pony held his tongue on the question that wanted to come next, instead letting beats of silence fall, before speaking again. "I'm sorry for whatever happened to make you feel that bad. And I'm sorry for not standing up for you when I heard- Well, when I heard what I'm sure you wish I didn't."

Steve turned the steering wheel, making a right that left them just a block from the Curtis' house. "Kid, did you ask for a ride to corner me or something?"

"I figured the worst thing you could do was stop and throw me out of the car."

Steve started to laugh, finding he couldn't help it. "Then, you'd just walk the rest of the way home. No problem, huh?"

"Yeah. I timed it all perfectly. I didn't say anything at all til we were close enough to my house."

Steve parked his car next to the curb connected to the Curtis' driveway. "Well, I'm timing it perfectly too by kicking you out right here."

Pony smiled, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice. "I still haven't told anyone, you know."

"Told them what?"

"About that heart you have." Pony pulled the handle on the passenger door, pushing it open. "Aren't you coming in?"

"Not right now. After Soda gets off work, you can tell him I'll be back later. I think I'm going to head home for a little bit."

* * *

The water rushed from the faucet into the glass, turning from cold to hot, the pressure building until it bubbled over.

Steve turned off the faucet, then poured the remaining water into the sink, before leaving the rinsed glass to dry. He picked up the notebook he'd left on the counter, the shiny metallic cover making his own face stare back at him.

Steve opened the cover to the first page, his eyes scanning the words he'd written several months before, the memories within them a secret at the time. He turned one page after another, remembering how he'd struggled to share details he'd kept to himself completely for all those years. He remembered how just writing it down had helped relieve some of the burden, giving these memories and emotions a space that didn't only exist inside his head.

Steve turned to the next blank page and picked up a pencil, his mind going back less that two weeks before, to when Grace had been here with him and Nicholas. Starting with his thoughts while Grace was talking, the truth of Clara's death revealed to him, he took Laura's advice again.

Steve wrote the thoughts he had, the details he couldn't talk about. He described the pictures in his mind that his spoken words had only skimmed the surface of since Grace came over. He wrote down the questions and fears, giving these wonderings a place to breathe, a safe place to belong.

* * *

_The heart took a detour on the path of denial that it had forged in response to another voice telling it what it didn't want to hear._

_ "It's over, Clara. There's nothing between us anymore. Maybe there never really was."_

_ The heart chose its words carefully, a shield building to keep it from the pain that continuously tried to get through. "That's just fine, Daniel. I was going to tell you the same thing."_

_ The heart didn't let the truth penetrate its exterior, the flesh only growing harder in order to maintain control, as the voice replied._

_ "I never wanted to hurt you, Clara. It wasn't my plan. I just don't see any kind of future for us."_

_ The heart, deceitful above all others, completed its alternate route, circling around to words that held a very small grain of truth. "I honestly don't want to see you anymore anyway. So long, Dr. Parker. I've had my eye on someone else."_

* * *

The card slid out, landing on the carpet, the Ace of hearts staring up at Steve and Soda.

Soda spoke first, snatching up the card, his voice one of forced innocence. "I swear I had no idea that was there."

Steve flicked a card at Soda's head. "Yeah, right, man. You just got an Ace in your sock by accident. From who? The poker fairy?"

Soda chuckled. "The poker fairy? Friend of the Tooth Fairy?"

"Nah, his cousin twice removed or some shit like that."

"You think the Tooth Fairy is a guy?"

Darry's laugh could be heard from across the house. "Do I even want to know how that subject came up?"

Steve was quick with a reply. "Your brother's a cheater, Superman. That's how."

Pony jumped into the banter. "Aw, man. Steve just made the discovery of the decade."

Steve tried, but failed, to keep the smile off his face. "You better watch it, Kid."

Soda tried to slide another ace into his sock, only for Steve to see him. He threw his best friend a smile. "What? I ain't doing anything, Stevie."

Darry laughed, the expression on Soda's face too much the picture of sincerity. "I think it's over, little buddy. You better fold."

TwoBit was next to throw in his two cents that had earned him his nickname. "The Tooth Fairy must be a Soc, having all that money to give away just for teeth."

Steve flicked another card at Soda, as he replied to TwoBit. "Damn, I totally pictured the Tooth Fairy flying around in a leather jacket and tuff greased up wings. You ruined my image, man."

* * *

The cigarettes' ashes landed on the ground of the Curtis' backyard, the still flickering embers held in the fingers of two teenage boys, all the love of brotherhood existing between them.

Soda stretched his legs out, his feet resting on the bottom step, as he let smoke blow into the night air. "What was that at the DX yesterday, Stevie?"

Steve focused on the cigarette he held, though he couldn't help but shiver. "It was nothing you haven't seen happen before."

"I know. I knew that look on your face, man, but it was kinda different. So was that stuff you were saying. And just the way you sounded reminded me of when I saw you in the hospital."

"It's just what I was thinking. It doesn't mean anything."

Soda sighed, then took another long puff of his cigarette. "You've talked before with flashbacks."

Steve put his cigarette between his lips and turned his head, his eyes on the grass beside the porch steps, one hand holding the zipper on his jacket.

"But you've never said stuff like that."

"You weren't supposed to hear it. But it just slipped out."

"So how does it not mean anything?"

"I didn't want you to know, okay?"

Soda put his cigarette out, tossing it to the ground, before he touched Steve's shoulder. "You didn't want me to know what exactly?"

"I don't want to do this, Sodapop. It was just a flashback. Just memories doing what they do. That's all."

Soda kept his hand on Steve's shoulder, his voice soft. "But not the same memories it has been."

Steve's shoulders slumped, and he put his cigarette out, as he let his head hang. "That's what I didn't want you to know."

"Why not, buddy?"

Steve could feel his best friend's concern chipping away at the edges of his resolve. "Cause those memories..." He sighed, lifting his head to look at Soda. "I don't want to hurt you with those. I go back to it, man. I go back to the day I overdosed."

"I'm sorry, Stevie. How long has this been going on?"

"Not long. The first time was last Friday night at my house. You know, when I wasn't moving or talking or anything. I just didn't tell you and my dad that part."

"I'm so sorry that happens, man. It's the last thing you need right now. What do you mean you don't want to hurt me with those memories? I already know what happened."

"Yeah. You know I took a bunch of pills and got sick. You know I called my dad for help. But, Soda, that's not..."

"It's not what?"

"It's not everything."

"Something else happened?"

"No. Nothing else happened. I just mean you don't know all the details. Like everything I was thinking right after. Or exactly where I was and how it all went down."

"Oh. I guess I hadn't really thought about anything like that. I mean, I know you were at home, but not- I guess I didn't think about how or-"

Steve interrupted the thoughts in Soda's head, able to look at his eyes and see the wheels turning. "And I don't want you to think about it, buddy."

"But if you're having flashbacks of all this, don't you need to talk about it? You don't have to tell me, but if you need me to listen, I can. It might hurt me like hell, Stevie, but I still will."

Steve held onto the last of his resolve, knowing that Soda spoke the truth, that he'd listen to it all to help his best friend cope through the memories. "I know, man. But you don't have to. I'm not putting you through that."

"So have you talked about it at all?"

"Yeah. I have. I'm not too sure how much it helped, but I did. If nothing else, at least I'm not by myself in handling it."

"Does your dad know about these flashbacks?"

"No. I don't want him to either. Just like I don't want to hurt you with those memories, I don't want to hurt him either."

* * *

The lamp's bulb glowed, casting its light to make the Randles' living room not as dark, despite the lateness of night.

Nicholas turned the pages in the book of Proverbs, reading the verses known for their wisdom. He looked up when Steve sat down beside him. "Hey. I was just doing a little reading. I'm not sure I understand all of it though."

Steve curled up on the couch, then laid his head on Nicholas' shoulder.

"Do you want to play a game or something again? I think we had fun those couple of nights."

"No. Not tonight."

"Well, maybe tomorrow, you can try to beat me at Scrabble."

"Yeah."

Nicholas looked at the Bible that was still open on his lap, the next verse in chapter sixteen reading, "Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body."

"I love you, Dad."

Nicholas spent a moment with his eyes on the verse he'd just read, understanding the wisdom behind it. "I love you too, Son." He put one arm around Steve, keeping him close. "I love you more than you can imagine."

* * *

_The heart went on a hunt, knowing its prey was near, the rolling wheels of a full shopping cart leading away from the store checkout._

_ Clara eyed Nicholas, of the belief that his window for grieving had long past. She drew closer, stopping right beside the register closest to the door, giving the cashier a smile._

_ Nicholas handed bills and coins to the cashier, remaining there to wait for some change._

_ Clara chose this moment to speak, the heart beating in anticipation, as she kept her voice light and sweet. "Hi, I'm Clara."_

_ Nicholas looked at her, as the cashier handed him the change. "I'm Nicholas." He put the bills in his wallet, glancing at his two bags of groceries he'd yet to pick up. "Can I help you with something?"_

_ The heart did a leap, absorbing the possibility of acceptance, as it spun a lie on its web of deceit. "I don't know. You just look familiar."_

_ Nicholas put his wallet back into his pocket, then picked up the bags. "I used to work here. Maybe you saw me then."_

_ Clara fell into step right beside Nicholas, the heart continuing to weave the web, as she conversed with him, the darkness creating a path that would lead to the fulfillment of its most wicked desires._

* * *

The hood slammed, the sound echoing off the walls of the garage, as Steve turned to Soda. "You should go tonight, man. She'll like you."

Soda took the key out of the newly repaired car's ignition, before sliding out of the driver's seat. "Of course she'll like me. Everyone likes me."

Steve rolled his eyes. "All right. Don't get cocky, smart ass."

Soda closed the driver's side door, the key still in his hand, as he leaned on a rear view mirror. "Yeah. I guess I'll go. I'm pretty sure TwoBit's expecting me to anyway."

"Well, yeah." Steve sat on the hood of the car. "It's not ever exactly been like you to turn down a date."

"That's true. So what are you going to do tonight?"

"Probably hang out with my dad. We've been spending time together, you know, doing kind of fun stuff. Things besides talking or being all serious. It's felt really good, honestly."

"You two probably need that."

"Yeah. We don't even have to do much either. Just watch TV or play games. Joke around. It's fun just being together."

* * *

The dominoes stood upon the coffee table, their winding path taking them all the way around the polished wooden surface.

Steve set another tile at the end of the line, careful not to topple them.

Nicholas chose the last domino out of the box, setting it on the opposite side of the table to complete the arrangement. "So do we knock it down, or see how long it stays up?"

"Let's leave it. It took too long to mess it up so soon."

Nicholas looked at the dominoes, the dotted tiles creating a structure that was simple but so fragile. "I'm thinking about going for a drive, Son. You want to come?"

* * *

The bowling ball rolled down the lane, then crashed into the pins, making all ten fall.

TwoBit high-fived Soda. "Nice shot, man. I didn't even know you could bowl."

Soda looked back at Kathy and her friend, Penny, who were chatting, as the guys took their turns.

TwoBit picked up his ball, following Soda's gaze. "So you like Penny? She sure seems to dig you. But girls always do like Sodapop Curtis."

"Yeah. I like her. And of course girls like me." Soda gave TwoBit a playful shove. "I'm sweet. Not a greasy hood, like some guys I know."

"Yeah. I'm such a delinquent, right?" TwoBIt stepped up to begin his turn, glancing at the now standing pins. "So you think you'll get some action tonight?"

Soda shrugged, then looked at Penny again. "I don't know, man. I actually wasn't even thinking about it, honestly." He smiled at her, as she smiled back. "And besides, I think I have a little more respect for her than that."

* * *

_The glasses clinked together, and Clara took a sip of her red wine, the heart in her chest on fire with glee she could hardly contain. "You didn't have to make me dinner, Nicholas. We just met, after all."_

_ Nicholas sipped his own wine, as he shook his head. "I wanted to. It's nice to do things for someone. Of course, I do things for my son. But it's a different feeling."_

_ "Steve sounds like a delightful boy from the way you talk about him. I hope I get to meet him soon."_

_ "Yeah. He's everything to me. And maybe you will. I don't know yet. He knows I've dated since Rose passed. If you can even call that dating. To be honest, I haven't been good about this, but I should be much more careful about ever getting him involved or attached if I don't know it's serious. I hope you understand."_

_ "Oh. I absolutely do. That means you're a good dad. I like that about you."_

_ "I just don't ever want him to get hurt because I'm trying to make myself feel good again. I've already taken that risk too many times. Not that I don't actually like you. I truly do. I just think that's a lot of what I've done with dating lately."_

_ Clara smiled, the heart thirsting for more, making her reach out to stroke Nicholas' cheek, her fingers brushing over his unshaven face. "I really like you too."_

_ Nicholas closed his eyes, leaning into Clara's touch that made him feel something he hadn't in a long time, made him yearn for more. "I"m so glad I met you."_

_ Clara drew closer to Nicholas, letting her hand wander down to his chest, undoing one button of his shirt, as she whispered in his ear. "If you want me to, I know I way I can make you feel wonderful."_

* * *

The Dairy Queen paper bag made a crinkling sound, as Steve put his leftover french fries inside it. "So where to now, Dad?"

Nicholas switched on his turn signal, before making a right. "I'm not sure, Son. I'm just driving around."

Steve rolled down his window, letting some fresh air blow into the car. "Oh. Okay. So are you trying to get your mind off something or what?"

"I just feel like driving. And it's a nice night for it."

"Yeah. I guess it is." Steve looked out the window, as his dad stopped at a red traffic light. He saw the drug store, the lights inside making it easy to see in the dark, the sign's letters glowing.

Once the light turned green, Nicholas moved forward again, going past the drug store, then into an area with several restaurants.

Steve looked at one of them, the air blowing in his face. "Hey, isn't that where Samuel works?"

"Sure is."

"I wonder if he's supposed to preach tomorrow at church. It seems like it's his turn."

"I believe it is, actually."

"I can see why you started talking to him about stuff, Dad. Cause I trust him that much now too."

"He's good at understanding things. I found that out very quickly."

"It's so weird. I mean the way everything has happened, you know? With Samuel and then Grace too. It can't be an accident either or even just a coincidence."

"It sure can't Son. Our paths crossed for a reason."

"I can even think of more than one reason." Steve moved his gaze to the sky that seemed to move along with them, the night carrying a multitude of stars, a simple evidential beauty of creation. "It's amazing to me, Dad. It's like a gift or something. And I know exactly who it came from."

* * *

The night was quiet, as Soda walked with Penny along the path that led to the front door of her house. He looked back at TwoBit's car, able to see his buddy and Kathy. "Man, they can't keep their hands off each other even for a second, can they?"

Penny giggled, as Soda followed her up on the her front porch. "Yeah, they get like that sometimes, especially when they've been off again for a little while. Kathy's my best friend, but I don't always like hanging out with the two of them."

"TwoBit says Kathy likes it better when they go out with another couple too. But it sure doesn't seem like they need us right now."

Penny sat down on the swing. "I think Kathy only says that because she wants me to come too."

Soda took a seat beside her, looking at TwoBit and Kathy once more. "If they keep that up, they might need us to pull them apart."

Penny smiled at Soda. "I've tried. It can't be done. Just trust me on that."

Soda chuckled. "I can believe it."

"The way TwoBit talks about his friends, I feel like I already know all of you guys."

"Yeah. He's a good buddy."

"I think he talks about Ponyboy the most. It's sweet. Actually, what all of you have sounds pretty special."

"It really is. I don't know what I'd do without my brothers or Steve or TwoBit. They're all my family."

Penny saw a light switch on inside her house. "I should probably go in. It's getting late."

Soda kissed Penny softly on the cheek, then put his hand over hers. "I hope you have a nice night."

"I had a good time with you, Sodapop. I really hope I get to see you again soon. I'd like to get to know you better."

* * *

Sirens cut into the night, an ambulance speeding down the road, its flashing lights accompanying the urgent sound.

Nicholas slowed down, pulling out of the way to let the emergency vehicle pass.

Steve stared at the lights, the red swirls that illuminated the night causing a sudden thought to escape from his mind. "I wonder if Clara wanted to call for help." There was no reply from Nicholas, as the sound of sirens faded into the distance. "I'm sorry."

Nicholas sped back up, heading in the direction of their house. "Sorry for what, Son?"

"For saying that outloud. I know you don't care."

"I _do_ care. I care about anything you're thinking and anything that's bothering you."

"But you don't want to hear stuff like that about Clara."

"If you need to say it, then yes, I do, Steve. Please don't keep anything to yourself because you think I don't want to hear about it."

"Did you ever think you loved her, Dad?"

Nicholas inhaled a sharp breath, as he turned onto their street. "I thought I did, yes. But I know now I never really did, not even before I found out what was happening."

"I wonder if she ever loved anyone at all."

Nicholas pulled into the driveway, parking beside Steve's car. "I doubt she did, Son."

Steve looked out the window that was still partially rolled down, seeing the front porch light glowing. "I know it's a weird thing for me to say, but I wonder what she thought about while she was dying."

Nicholas pulled his key from the ignition, then touched Steve's arm. "It's not weird. You just have questions. I don't know the answers, Son. But that doesn't mean you can't ask or wonder or even tell me what you think."

"I really can't help it, Dad. Cause I-" Steve's gaze moved away from the porch light, drawn to his own car. His eyes then traveled from the Ford down to the ground he'd walked, picturing footprints marking the path that led from the driveway and up the steps.

Nicholas saw Steve's eyes move in one direction, then the other, uncertain about the shift and his son's unfinished thought. "You what?"

"I- I need to get out of here." His chest tightening, Steve pushed open the passenger door, sliding out of the car.

"Okay." Nicholas opened the driver's side door, the visible alarm in Steve's eyes making him move quickly.

Steve hurried inside, his steps not pausing to wait for Nicholas.

* * *

_ Nicholas' fingers threaded through Clara's hair, as his mouth was pressed against hers, the kiss making him want more, the touch making him desire to go further than he had intended._

_ The heart, desperate for a foothold, reveled in the building electricity, making Clara nearly gasp when she could no longer feel Nicholas' lips on hers._

_ Nicholas smiled her. "I really want to do this. I do. But Steve will be home soon."_

_ The heart gaped in disappointment, though the mention of Steve led it down another path of musing. Clara touched Nicholas' cheek, just as she had earlier. "It's time for me to go then. But please let me meet him soon."_

* * *

The keys landed on the counter, Nicholas' feet carrying him through the house, his mind only on Steve. He came to his son's bedroom door, finding it closed. "Steve?"

Steve's back pressed against the door, the sensation creating a physical link to hold him in the present, as whispered prayers came from his lips. "God, I'm okay. Please help me know I'm okay."

Nicholas turned the knob, realizing the door wouldn't open. "Please let me in, Son."

Steve scooted away from the door, allowing it to open. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just- I had to get away for a minute. That's all."

Nicholas crouched down beside Steve. "You looked like something scared you out there."

Steve opened his eyes, his resolve threatening to melt. "You know how I get kind of jumpy sometimes, especially at night."

"But I also know that doesn't just happen for no reason."

Steve met Nicholas' eyes, his resolve turning to steel again, knowing his dad's predictable reaction to the true reason that existed. "It's just cause of, you know, what we were talking about."

Nicholas nodded, even as a feeling of uncertainty made him want to push further. "All right, Son. Do you feel calmer now though?"

Steve's nod mirrored Nicholas', as he gathered the strength to speak once more. "Yeah. I think so. I'm okay, Dad." He managed a smile, one that he knew would be reassuring. "Because I know I'm just here with you."

* * *

The piano's musical notes filled the sanctuary, a song of praise bringing life to the congregation.

Nicholas clapped his hands, singing along with the lyrics that were now familiar to him.

Samuel, his fingers moving naturally along the piano keys, closed his eyes, singing the last chorus of the morning worship.

Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Grace standing behind him.

Grace gave Steve a smile, then put her hand over one of his, giving it a squeeze. "I just wanted to say hi. And I really hope you're doing all right. I've been praying for you."

Steve nodded, hearing the song beginning to come to a close. "Um, thanks for that. I still need it."

The last notes of the music playing, Grace released Steve's hand. "I still really want to help, so please let me know if there's anything else you need, or even if you just want to talk again."

Steve could hear the sincerity in Grace's voice, and he gave her a smile of appreciation, before she went back to sit with Pastor David.

The congregation all took their seats, as Samuel moved from the piano bench to the podium, then opened his Bible to the New Testament.

Soda stared at the altar, Steve's words from the Sunday before still on his mind, those moments they'd shared an echo in his heart. He reached for his best friend's shoulder, holding onto it, as he mouthed a silent prayer: Thank you, God. Thank you for listening to me.

Steve looked at Soda, as Samuel introduced his sermon, the grip on his shoulder drawing his attention. "You okay, buddy?"

Soda nodded, as he let go of Steve's shoulder and gave him a grin. "Yeah. I am."

Nicholas read along with Samuel in the third chapter of Mark, first about how many people followed Jesus to the sea, seeking after him to be healed, then about how he appointed his twelve disciples.

Samuel, his organized notes that outlined the sermon right in front of him, paused, his eyes moving back up to a previous verse and a thought he'd jotted down in the margin. "Before I go any further, I'd like to back up a little bit to verse thirteen."

Steve looked on with Nicholas, his gaze going over the printed words of the verse, as Samuel reread it: "And he went up on the mountain and called to him those whom he desired, and they came to him."

Samuel looked up from his notes and then around the sanctuary, a place he considered a refuge. "The word 'desired' jumped out at me here, even though what I'm about to say isn't the overall message of the sermon. It's about seeking God and about how Jesus lived his ministry, but I would like to go down a different path for just a minute. This verse doesn't just say Jesus chose his disciples, it says he desired them. That means he wanted them. He wanted them with him. The word 'desire' indicates a strong feeling of longing or yearning. So upon reading this, I couldn't help but think about how God wants you and me. He desires for us to follow Jesus, to have peace, to be saved. He wants us, every part of our hearts and souls."

Steve touched the page of the open Bible, his finger brushing over the words Samuel was discussing, as he whispered to Nicholas. "I really like that, Dad. I like being wanted. It's nice to think about."

Nicholas patted Steve's shoulder, whispering back. "It is nice, Son. I like it too."

Samuel continued expanding his thought, veering even more off the path of his outline. "And thinking about how God wants me and you, about how he desires us, made me also think about how he accepts us. Just as we are, we can come to him. All we have to bring is our selves, and he's there with forgiveness and the unconditional love only he can give. He's there with acceptance and open arms that reach out and draw me and you close to him to hold us and make sure we know he's always there. I'm sure I speak for everyone in the room when I say we've all been hurt or rejected in some way or another. Jesus was hurt and rejected. But, because of that sacrifice, God will never stop loving or wanting us." Samuel's eyes scanned the room, his heart for sharing God's love and the gospel leading his next words. "So if you've never asked God to forgive you of your sins, if you've never asked Jesus into your heart, please do it today. He loves you. He wants you. He'll never reject you when you seek after him. He'll hold onto you, and even when it's hard for you to hold onto him because of the pain or trauma in your life, he still won't let go."

* * *

The sheets of music moved through Samuel's fingers, as he sorted them from his place on a front row pew.

Steve walked up behind him, taking a seat on the second row. "Hey. Um, I didn't tell you the other day at your house, but thanks for listening. Really, for more than that though. I'm not sure how to explain it."

Samuel looked up at Steve, leaving the music in its present order. "Of course. It's what I'm here for."

Steve scooted to the edge of his seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of the pew in front of him. "It hurts to talk about that stuff, but knowing you care enough to listen and pray for me, then even let me cry and all... Well, it meant a lot to me."

"Honestly, it means a lot to me that you'd come to me with that, Steve. We can talk anytime."

Steve glanced across the church, seeing his dad talking to Pastor David and Soda speaking to Vivian. "Soda knows about the flashbacks. The day after we talked, I had a hard time with them kind of a lot, and I said some things to him. When he asked about it later, I think he'd even already figured out what was going on with me."

"So what'd he say?"

"He just told me I could talk to him, like he always does. And I know he means it. He knows there's some stuff I don't want to tell him and why. I think he gets it too."

"You both seem like you're always very understanding of one another."

"Cause we are." Steve watched Nicholas shake hands with Pastor David, then start speaking to Grace. "I kind of wanted to tell my dad last night, but he always feels so guilty about stuff. It wasn't as bad, but he saw one of the flashbacks happen too. I told him I just got spooked cause of what we were talking about. Which is sort of true."

"You think he'd still feel guilty if you just told him the memories are bothering you?"

"Yeah. I do." Steve saw Nicholas making his way over to them. "Besides, I know if I even told him that much, it'd be hard not to say a lot more."

* * *

_The ice landed in the glass, followed by the lemonade Clara poured, filling it to the top. "All right. I truly understand. But even if we don't work out, I'd never hurt Steve."_

_ Nicholas tucked a strand of hair behind Clara's ear. "Oh. I know that. But he always has to come first, no matter how I might be feeling about anyone."_

_ Clara set the pitcher of lemonade down between them, a smile of her face, as she gazed at Nicholas. "Might be feeling, huh? I know exactly what I'm feeling, sweetheart, and there's no denying it."_

* * *

The second hand on Nicholas' watch silently ticked, as he found the words to speak to Samuel. "I really appreciate you being there for Steve. He needs as much of that as he can get."

Samuel studied Nicholas, knowing the tone of his voice was a clue to something his friend wasn't saying. "Just like I told him, it's what I'm here for."

Nicholas let out a breath, as he saw Steve and Soda step outside the church. "I know there's something he isn't talking to me about. I'd never ask you to break his trust, but-"

Samuel rested his hand on Nicholas' arm. "Hey, just give him a little time. I think you know how it can help sometimes to talk to someone who's not so close to what's going on."

Nicholas couldn't help but smile. "Not so close, huh? I wouldn't say you're far away from any of it now."

Samuel smiled back, the meaning clear to him. "Point taken. But I haven't known you for that long, and I wasn't around when Steve was a kid."

"You'll tell me if he says anything I really need to know?"

"Of course, Nicholas. I already told you that."

"But when you did, you also said he hadn't talked to you about anything I didn't already know, and he wasn't keeping anything from me." Nicholas stood to his feet, pacing right in front of Samuel. "So it seemed different then."

"But it's still true. I promise. You can still trust me."

"I know. I know I can. I'm sorry. I just-" Nicholas turned to look at Samuel, noticing the smile on his face that only seemed to be growing wider. "What? What did I say?"

Samuel shook his head, unable to hide what resembled amusement. "Nothing. You and Steve just amaze me. If you want to know the whole truth, it makes me miss my son that much more, but you two- It's a beautiful blessing to me to even get to see it and to have the chance to know both of you." Samuel paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts that mixed with both joy and grief. "Because you're so much alike in the way you love each other."

* * *

The dominoes toppled over, falling into one another with a collective clacking sound, as Soda thought of what he'd yet to tell Steve. "I'm glad I went on that date last night, man."

Steve started to pick up the dominoes, beginning to arrange the tiles in a line again. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Penny was real nice. I like her. But I don't know, it's different than when I've said that before."

"You going to see her again?"

"I'd like to." Soda picked up one of the dominoes, the numerical dots on the tile staring back at him, as he placed it in the line Steve had started. "It sounds weird, Stevie, cause I know I just met her. But I feel like I care about her already."

* * *

The pages of the photo album turned, the images filling Vivian anew with a longing for her little boy, the grief still existing after all this time. She focused on a picture of Matthew as a baby of about six months old, his chubby cheeks caught in a smile, his blue eyes looking right at the camera lens.

Vivian pulled the photo out from underneath the protective covering and touched her baby boy's freckled face, her finger tracing the curls of his hair. "I could never replace you, my little one. But I can't deny it any longer."

* * *

The porch swing swayed, the links of the chain cold against Steve's fingers. "I don't know, Dad. But I don't want you to worry. It's not like I'm keeping everything inside."

Nicholas plucked the lit cigarette from Steve's hand and put it between his lips, inhaling the taste of it.

Steve raised an eyebrow, a combination of concern and amusement in his features. "I would've given you one. You didn't have to take mine."

Nicholas breathed out the smoke, then handed the cigarette back to Steve. "I know. That's all I wanted though."

Steve took a drag off the cigarette, unsure at first of how to reply. "So what else are you thinking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It just seems like when you smoke or do anything else, there's always more to it." Steve took one more puff of the cigarette, before he put it out. "Should I be worried about you too?"

Nicholas smiled, his heart swelling, as he remembered Samuel's words from earlier that afternoon.

"What? You look like you're about to laugh. Or maybe cry. I'm not too sure."

"I may do both, Son. Samuel's right. We sure are a lot alike."


	49. Chapter 49

_A/N I'm working on getting caught up with typing and wanted to go ahead and post this!_

_Christopher's bat hit the ball, sending it through the air._

_ Nathan cheered from the stands. "Run, Son!"_

_ Christopher tossed the bat down and sprinted to first base. He kept one foot on it, as he saw the opposing team's left fielder just getting his hands on the ball._

_ Nathan yelled once more. "Keep going, Christopher!"_

_ Christopher sprinted to second base, his foot already on it when the ball was caught by the player guarding it._

_ Nathan saw Christopher smile up at him, as the ball sailed from the hand of the second baseman back to the pitcher, the game continuing._

_ When his team mate hit the ball, Christopher ran for third base, then for home, touching the plate just in time._

* * *

The sun shone through the window in Laura's office, as she responded to Steve's last statement. "I'm glad to hear you've found the notebook I gave you useful again. Just writing things down can be very therapeutic, especially when they're difficult to talk about."

Steve thought of the words he'd written on the pages, the images and emotions he'd described. "I know I, uh, let you read it before. But I don't want you to right now. If that's okay?"

"That's perfectly fine, Steve. It's completely up to you."

Steve stood up, finding he needed to move around, like he had during their previous session, as if it helped keep the wheels of his mind turning. "You told me a few weeks ago that you've seen a lot of progress in me." He walked over to the window, still facing Laura, as he spoke. "What did you mean? What do you see?"

* * *

_The night surrounded Nicholas and Clara, as they strolled toward the Randles' house._

_ Nicholas reached for Clara's hand, feeling the softness of her skin. "I thought it'd be a nice night for a walk."_

_ Clara's eyes lingered on Nicholas' face, her heartbeat speeding up, as she discerned the desire in his gaze. "Oh. It is."_

_ Their feet moved along the concrete path, a hint of moonlight shining down on them. Her heart fought for possession of his, her being vying for affection that would put her right when she most wanted to be._

* * *

Time carried Laura along with it, as she considered all of her sessions with Steve, going back to the beginning. "I remember when I first met you."

Steve waited for Laura to say more, but when she didn't continue, he recognized her tactic. "Me too. I didn't stick around long, did I? I did the same thing to you I was trying to do to everyone in my life." He smiled, blinking back the tears that sprang up. "Not that it ever even almost worked."

"You just found one answer to your question, Steve. You're not trying to push the people who love you away. You're, in fact, doing the opposite. You've pulled them closer."

"When I first came here, I felt like I deserved to hurt. So I thought no one should want to help me, or even that they couldn't."

"How about now?"

* * *

_The eyes looked around Steve's room, fingers flipping on a light switch to get a better view._

_ Nicholas' voice called from his bedroom. "Clara!"_

_ The fingers switched the light back off, leaving the boy's room in darkness._

* * *

The sun shone right in Steve's face, as he contemplated where he now stood with the shame that had once warped his perception of himself and the people in his life. "It's not like I feel good about what happened, but I guess I don't feel as bad about it either. I'm not convinced it was all my fault anymore, or that I'm somehow damaged forever. I know I didn't do anything that means I deserve the pain."

Laura watched Steve, seeing his expression change, able to imagine his train of thought, knowing him well after months of counseling. "And what do you think now about the people in your life wanting to be there for you and help you?"

"It makes me feel loved. And like I can never be alone." Steve looked out the window, then at Laura, his mind going back to all the times he'd truly opened up, talking about the memories of abuse and his intense emotions, giving them the voice they'd needed for so many years. "Letting my dad in, letting him see all that pain I've felt and having him share it with me, that's helped so much. Sodapop too. But it's even more than that with both of them. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"They've been the two constants in your life for a very long time. I know that means a lot to you."

"Yeah. They have. And it does. But I was thinking about how it's made me feel to be there for them too. Probably especially since after" Steve paused, remembering the times he'd struggled with wanting to hurt himself and the time he fully acted on the dangerous impulse. "after I overdosed."

"How does it make you feel to be there for them?"

* * *

_The sheet and blanket lay rumpled at the foot of Nicholas' bed, the mattress now quiet in the aftermath of heat. Nothing separated the two bodies, skin touching skin, contented faces huddled together on a single pillow._

_ Nicholas' hand rested on Clara's shoulder, before he stroked down to her bare hip. "I'm so glad to be here with you. You're beautiful."_

_ Clara put her hand over his, moving to make his fingers brush over her most intimate area that remained aroused. "I made you feel so good, didn't I?"_

_ Nicholas couldn't help but moan, before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Clara's, desiring even more of what had made him feel so alive._

_ Clara leaned into the kiss, letting her fingers trail along Nicholas' chest, then down to his stomach. She pulled away and looked into his eyes, her heart shaking with glee to view the rawness there that shone with vulnerability and want. Her fingers moved lower, teasing him, before she began a path of kisses, starting on his stomach and moving down, her lips inching closer to great pleasure. "And I'm not even finished yet, my love."_

* * *

Feet moved along the carpeted floor, going right into the sunlight's path, as Steve attempted to answer Laura's question, though he believed the truth transcended words. "Knowing I can be there for them, well, I guess it makes me feel like there's something I can do with this pain, besides suffer. I'm not trying to say it makes me feel good that my dad and Sodapop have hurt so much too cause it doesn't. I'd take that away from both of them if I could, but I obviously can't. And I don't know if I'm putting this the right way, but being there for them, it helps me see past the pain that's inside of me. It's like if I can listen to them or do and say whatever to try to make it better, that helps me heal too."

Laura's thoughts drifted back to Steve's question about his progress that had led their session in this direction. "So you've gone from feeling like you deserve to hurt to actively seeking out the help you need and trying to help those in your life who were also affected, though in different ways, by the circumstances of your past."

"Yeah. I guess I have."

"I see even more than that though, Steve. I know how you've struggled with being open about what happened to you, as well as how difficult it was for you to discuss certain thoughts and feelings. You've grown in being able to share and trust those in your life you know care about you, and I'm not only thinking of your dad or Sodapop when I say that."

* * *

_The door slammed, and a little boy's voice called across the backyard. "Hi, Dad!"_

_ Nicholas caught the football Steve threw his way. "Hey, you're getting good at that, Son!"_

_ Steve ran up to his dad, his gaze wandering behind him to the figure he could see on the other side of the screen door. "Who's that?"_

_ Nicholas looked back, smiling at Clara. "Son, there's someone I want you to meet."_

_ Steve rolled his eyes. "Dad, I've met your girlfriend's before. You've brought them over."_

_ "This is different, Steve. Come on out here, Clara."_

_ Clara stepped outside, smiling as her eyes met Steve's. She held her hand out to him. "Hi, it's so good to finally meet you."_

_ Steve took Clara's hand, giving it a quick shake, before he pulled his own hand away. "Um, it's good to meet you too." He turned back to Nicholas, reaching for the football. "I think I'm going to go play with Soda, Dad. I'll be home before dinner."_

_ Nicholas ruffled Steve's hair. "That's fine, Son. Have fun."_

_ Clara spoke up again. "Maybe I'll still be here when you get back, Steve, and we can all spend some time together."_

* * *

Eyes blinked, as memories played back behind them, though Steve could find comfort in these, knowing Laura spoke the truth about how he'd grown in being able and willing to share, gaining strength from being open. "I know what you mean because they're not the only ones I'll talk to now."

Laura watched as Steve took his seat, able to see him relaxing, as he processed her answers to his question. "That takes a lot of courage. I hope you know that. Not just for you to share, but to listen to others too, especially what Samuel's told you about himself and Grace too. In hearing about you talking to them, I also see you seeking answers, trying to gain a better understanding of yourself and the past."

"Yeah. I guess that is what I've been doing. Mostly with talking to Grace about Clara and all. And maybe it helped her too to be able to talk about that and to know a little more about why it happened." Steve took a slow breath, imagining being in Grace's shoes, finding a bloody suicide scene, and wondering about the truth that led to such an outcome. "I know I would need that. I wasn't even there when Clara died, and I still need that."

Laura studied Steve's face, seeing his eyes close for several seconds at a time, his color seeming to grow pale. "Are you okay?"

Steve nodded his head, allowing his eyes to remain closed for another few seconds, before they opened again to look at Laura. "Yeah. I'm okay. Talking about that is still hard for me. It's kind of mostly why I took out the notebook again."

"Okay. Let's backtrack a little bit then. You told me a few minutes ago that being there for others helps you heal too. I know we've discussed a lot about recovery and what that means. But what do you believe it means to heal?"

* * *

_Spaghetti noodles twisted around his fork, as Steve noticed Clara smiling at him. "So where'd you two meet anyway?"_

_ Nicholas served himself another helping of spaghetti. "The grocery store. The one I used to work at."_

_ Clara watched Steve, her own plate nearly finished, as she let herself get lost in the charm of this young boy. "So tell me what you like to do, Steve. I like your dad so much, and I truly want to know you too. You're his son, after all. If he's in my life, you will be too."_

* * *

The answer didn't roll right off Steve's tongue, as he found it needed time to form. He turned Laura's question over and over in his mind, knowing his previous perceptions of healing now seemed flawed. "I think it means what we were talking about already, what you said about me pulling people closer. I think it means I'm stronger because I understand more, and I don't see myself as broken forever. I know healing doesn't mean nothing will bother me or hurt anymore because the pain just doesn't work like that, but it doesn't have to destroy me."

Laura fixed her gaze on Steve, seeing his eyes glistening, his tone one of reflective contemplation that told her his mind was cycling through the memories of the trauma he endured, as well as his own responses to its still very much present effects. "I think that's a good way to look at it, Steve. You're recognizing your progress, while also acknowledging how what you've experienced can still affect you."

"Cause I know it does, and I can't expect it not to. I mean, I couldn't go through abuse like that and it not change something inside me. I couldn't go through trying to kill myself and that not change me even more."

"Exactly. What you've been through changes you. It doesn't define you. I think you have a compassion for yourself that you haven't always had, and I'm glad to see it."

"Yeah. I think that kind of comes from listening to my dad and Sodapop. Samuel too. Not just them telling me nothing is my fault or things like that, but from hearing them talk about their own guilt and memories and stuff."

"You've been able to take the compassion you extend to others and also give some of it to yourself."

"Maybe that's part of healing too. It must be, right? And, really, just having people here for me, always making sure I know I'm loved, no matter what, that makes me see everything in a different way. So even when it all hurts so much or the flashbacks get bad or I feel like the pain can't ever get better," Steve blinked, tears on his eyelashes. "I know I can get through it."

Laura saw Steve's head bow at the same time a tear slid down each of his cheeks. "That's right. You absolutely can get through it. You've learned a lot about how to cope, even when you're overwhelmed."

Steve lifted his eyes, meeting Laura's gaze, voice steady despite the weight of emotions on his face. "I'm glad I survived." He looked toward the window, able to see the sky that was bathed in a clear blue, the daylight still at its peak of brightness. "I'm so glad to be alive."

* * *

The hammer tapped on the head of the nail, driving it further into the wall, as the sound echoed in Nicholas' ears, his hand wrapped around the hammer's handle.

"Oh. I didn't know what I was hearing."

Nicholas turned around, coming face to face with Steve. "Yeah. I'm just hanging up a couple of picture frames."

Steve saw the two framed photos Nicholas had out on his bed. One was of the two of them when Steve was almost eleven years old, the other of Nicholas and Rose. "I remember these."

Nicholas picked up the frame that held the photo of himself and Steve, cognizant of the time it had been taken, the line that divided before and after nearly visible to him. "I just thought I'd put them back up."

"Sure, Dad. You should." Steve watched Nicholas place the frame over the nail, his fingers not releasing it, though it was secure. He moved closer, seeing his dad's eyes were fixed on the photo in front of him, stillness enveloping him. "Dad?"

Nicholas blinked and shook his head, before letting go of the frame and making sure it was level. "We both look good in it, don't we?"

Steve smiled at the photo, as he slung an arm around Nicholas' shoulders. "Of course we do. And we look even better right now."

* * *

_Fingers intertwined with each other, as Clara smiled at Nicholas, the heart ready to close in on one of its wants. "It's so lonely at my place lately. It makes me miss them."_

_ Nicholas knew very little about Clara's past, not imagining she had much of one at all. "Miss who?"_

_ "My Christopher and my Nathan. They were my world."_

_ "You haven't told me about them."_

_ "Nathan was the love of my life, and Christopher was my little boy." Clara sighed, sounding near tears. "I don't like talking about it though. It just makes me miss them more. So does being all alone at my little house."_

_ Noting the grief in Clara's voice, Nicholas made an offer. "You could move in here. I'd love to have you with me. Steve likes you." He smiled, his hand squeezing hers. "And I think I could love you."_

_ "Oh, Nicholas! Really? I'd love to live here. I'd love to be with you and with Steve everyday." Clara hugged Nicholas, her grip on him tight in anticipated victory. "It'll be amazing, and I'll never be lonely again."_

* * *

Goosebumps sprang up on Nicholas' arms, the glass in his hand ice cold against his grip. He looked down at the liquid, wishing the tea had the biting taste of whiskey. But that sure didn't help with this before, he thought. It made it worse.

Nicholas put the glass down and turned off the stove burners, stirring the contents of each pot. "God, what do I do? How can I share something like this?" But if I keep it to myself, it'll swallow me whole, he thought. It'll destroy me this time.

* * *

_A hand touched Steve's forehead, making his eyes open. "Hey, Dad."_

_ Nicholas sat on the end of the bed and brushed his fingers through his son's hair. "How's your stomach?"_

_ "Okay, I guess. The soup sort of helped. But I couldn't eat much of it."_

_ "That's fine. You didn't have to. I just thought it could help a little bit to make you feel better."_

_ Steve still pushed his head further into the pillow. "I still kind of feel like I could throw up."_

_ Nicholas leaned down, pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead._

_ Steve couldn't help but grin. "You always treat me like a baby when I'm sick, Dad."_

_ "Cause you're my son, and I want to take care of you."_

_ "Clara really likes me, doesn't she?"_

_ "Yes. She definitely does. Is that a good thing?"_

_ "I guess so. She's nice enough."_

_ Nicholas pulled Steve's blanket up, tucking it around him. "Good night, Son. I'll see you in the morning." He saw Steve's eyes close, then turned the light off on his way out, before venturing down the hall to the bedroom he now shared with Clara. He saw she had already climbed into the bed. "I think he feels better, but he should probably rest tomorrow too."_

_ As Nicholas lie down beside her, Clara's hand found its way to his face. "I'm sure he'll be all right soon."_

_ Nicholas put his hand over Clara's. "I hope so. I know he's a kid, and kids get sick, but it always bothers me. Even more so since I lost Rose."_

_ "That makes sense, sweetheart." Clara leaned closer to kiss Nicholas on the lips, then laid her head on his chest._

_ Nicholas stroked Clara's shoulder, then moved his fingers over the soft silk of her nightgown._

_ Clara smiled at the touch, letting her own fingers glide from Nicholas' waist down to his thigh, before she kissed his neck, whispering in his ear. "I want you right now. Don't make me have to wait."_

* * *

Laughter danced across the front yard, as Soda did a back flip off the porch, landing on his feet at first, only to fall back on his behind.

Steve plopped down on the grass next to him. "That was still pretty good. Even though you ended up landing on your ass."

Soda saw Darry watching at the window and waved to him. "Hey, big brother! I just ain't as graceful as you!"

Steve smirked, giving Soda shove. "Shoot, you ain't even as graceful as me."

Soda remained on the ground, leaning back on his elbows to breathe in the chilly late afternoon air, the smile still on his face. "I guess I just ain't an acrobat." He looked at Steve. "Hey, why don't you do a back flip, Stevie? I remember you were pretty good at it."

"Nah. I don't really feel much like it right now." Steve crossed his legs and brushed his fingers over the grass, as his eyes wandered to the porch, then back down to the ground. "Can I tell you something, man?"

"Of course."

"I know we've had a lot of, uh, sappy moments lately, and I swear I'm not trying to make another one..."

When Steve's thought trailed off, Soda sat up straighter. "That doesn't even matter. You can say whatever you need to say, buddy."

Steve's hands moved to his lap, one gripping the sleeve of his jacket. "I know I've told you before, but not since I-" He looked up at Soda. "Thank you for being my friend. My brother."

"Always, buddy. Like you said before, you know I got your back."

"I do. I know. But I wanted to tell you that. And just thanks for sticking with me even when I tried to push you away, for letting me talk to you about everything I have, and for never giving up on me. I know it's not been easy for you either cause of what you've told me, but I need you to know it means so much to me, and nothing I can say or do is enough, but-"

Soda put a hand on Steve's arm, interrupting the rambling thoughts. "I already know all of that, Stevie, and it _is _enough. So I'm just going to say you're welcome, and I know you'd do the same thing for me, man, cause that's what brothers do."

* * *

_The comforter remained in place, covering Nicholas, as Clara slid off the mattress, her feet softly touching the carpet beside the bed._

_ Nicholas stirred in his sleep, turning over to his side, slumber keeping a firm hold over him._

_ Clara stood up, careful not to make a single sound, as she tip-toed out of the bedroom. She pulled the door closed, barely hearing it click. She padded down the hall to Steve's room and stepped inside._

_ Steve lie facing away from Clara, sound asleep with his blanket still tucked around him, just as Nicholas had left it._

_ Making sure the door was shut, Clara inched closer in the darkness and sat down on Steve's bed. She lie next to him, her head touching his._

_ Steve turned to his back, feeling fingers stroking his hair. He opened one eye to see Clara staring at him, as he mumbled his first thought, "Why are you in here again? Go away."_

_ Clara didn't respond, only continuing to stroke Steve's hair._

_ Steve turned back over to his side to face away from Clara. His eyes closed, the silence allowing him to rest a little bit, though her presence remained an unwanted one._

_ Clara stayed on Steve's bed, smiling at him and leaning closer, so she could see his face. "You know, you do look like my Christopher. But you also look like my love, Nathan. If not for him, I'd still have Christopher." She could see Steve's eyes were still closed and lifted herself off the bed, before moving to the other side._

_ Steve remained still and silent, even when the mattress dipped down once more, indicating Clara was now in front of him._

_ Clara lie down beside Steve, her face close to his, making their foreheads touch. She slid the blanket off of him, then closed her eyes, while stroking his cheek, before she started allowing her hands to wander._

_ Steve's eyes didn't open, but tears formed at each of Clara's touches, fear making him freeze. _

_ Clara's kissed Steve's head, the closeness making the darkest place within her deceptive heart sing with a cruel pleasure that only this measure of dominance could bring, as her hands slid beneath his pajamas._

_ Tears seeped onto Steve's cheeks, dripping onto the pillow, as Clara's touch went lower, rendering him powerless, so that all he could do was remind himself to keep breathing._

* * *

Fingers curled around the back porch railing, their grip tight, as Nicholas took rapid breaths. Dizziness melded with the sensation of unreality, while only small gasps of the fresh evening air were pulled into his lungs.

The back door opened and closed, then Nicholas heard Steve's voice calling to him. "Dad! What's wrong? What happened?"

Nicholas' head swam, the weight on his chest only allowing him to speak a short phrase. "Can't. Breathe."

Steve moved to Nicholas' side, taking his arm to guide him toward the porch steps. "Sit down, Dad. I think you're having a panic attack."

Nicholas did as he was told, his body not yet calmer, his breathing still too fast.

Steve stayed beside Nicholas, the concern he felt growing, even as he knew what to do to help. He took his dad's hand, keeping his voice as soothing as possible. "Dad, you're okay. You've helped me through this before. Try to breathe slow."

Nicholas tried to draw air in slowly, only to find he couldn't, all too easily resuming fast, shallow breaths. "Can't. Too hard."

Steve shifted so that he could reach for Nicholas' other hand, looking straight into his eyes. "You can. It passes." It scares me to see you like this, he thought. "Come on. Try again." Please breathe, Dad. Please.

Nicholas focused on Steve's hands that were clutching his own, squeezing them in return, the weight of panic only beginning to lift. "Sorry, Son. Sorry."

Steve leaned forward, letting his forehead touch Nicholas', as he held steady eye contact. "You're getting better. It's okay." You have to be okay, he thought. "Breathe with me, Dad." I need you to be okay.

Nicholas took a deep breath, just as Steve did, letting it out a few seconds later. He felt air begin to move into his lungs more easily and naturally, as they continued this pattern.

Steve kept his breaths steady, seeing Nicholas was calming down. He loosened the tight grip on his dad's hands, though he didn't let go. "See? You've got it, Dad." Thank God, he thought. "You can breathe." Because I never want to see you like that again.

Nicholas looked at Steve, feeling his whole body relax, as it recovered from the plight of anxiety. He rubbed his chest, taking one last intentionally deep breath. "I think I'm okay now. Just really tired."

Steve released Nicholas' hands, but didn't put much distance between them. "Yeah. They'll take a lot out of you. Do you know why that happened?"

Nicholas nodded, and his mouth opened, but it closed again, a silent response.

"It hasn't happened before, has it?"

"No. I know I've gotten close, but..."

"I won't push you into telling me anything, Dad. But I know it's something, or you wouldn't be getting all quiet when I ask."

Nicholas sighed, a hand coming up to rub his head. "You're right, Son. It's something that bothered me months ago, and me and you, we can talk about anything, but this... I just couldn't. I still can't. How can I tell anybody that I-" He sucked in a breath, an edge of the panic still present.

Steve touched Nicholas' shoulder. "So whatever it is, just don't right now. It's okay, Dad. You'll be able to talk when you're ready."

* * *

_The bedroom door opened, and feet traveled back across the carpet, still careful to be silent._

_ Nicholas didn't move, his body in blissful slumber. He remained unaware, as Clara slid back into the bed beside him. _

_ Clara pulled the comforter around herself, cuddling close to Nicholas. She felt a smile cross her face, as her eyes drifted shut, the twisted soul she harbored inside reveling in satisfaction._

* * *

A sensation resembling nausea closed around Nicholas' stomach, the smell of the soup he'd heated up doing nothing to ease the discomfort. He set the half-eaten bowl down on the coffee table, a shiver passing through him, accompanied by what he could only describe as a feeling of shame.

* * *

_Warm water washed over the dishes in the sink, as Nicholas came up behind Clara and wrapped his arms around her waist._

_ Clara giggled, then shut the water off, shaking her hands dry, before she turned and kissed Nicholas on the lips. "Good morning."_

_ Nicholas let his hands stroke Clara's back. "Good morning to you too. I just checked on Steve. He said he wasn't feeling as nauseous, but not hungry either."_

_ "Yes. I made him some eggs, but he didn't seem to care for them or the orange juice I brought him."_

_ "I hope he feels much better later. Like I said, I hate when he's sick."_

_ Clara smiled at Nicholas, her hands rubbing his chest. "Oh. He will. He'll be just fine. And until he is, I'll be taking great care of him."_

_ Nicholas put his hands over Clara's, holding them still. "I have to go, and you're making me really want to stay home."_

_ Clara winked at him. "Well, maybe you should." She leaned closer, kissing his cheek, her voice dropping lower. "But I'll be here when you get back, and we'll have all night."_

* * *

A pair of arms wrapped around Nicholas, the embrace enclosing him in comfort, despite the disturbing thoughts that were surfacing even more strongly than the first time. He gripped onto Steve, as the realizations brought pain that threatened to unravel the progress he'd made in forgiving himself.

Steve, recalling how Nicholas' face had looked, his expression like that of someone in physical pain, held onto his dad. "I know I said I wouldn't push you, but you're kind of freaking me out here. Please talk, Dad. Don't keep it inside."

Nicholas took a series of deep breaths, the words to speak on the tip of his tongue.

"And if you can't talk to me, that's okay. We can call Samuel. Or anybody else. Or maybe you could write it down. That's helped me."

"I'm sorry, Son. So sorry. If I'd known, I never- I mean, I can't believe I-"

"Dad, I have to be honest here. You're scaring me because we've talked about everything there is, about everything that's happened. So what could be left?" Even though Nicholas didn't try to pull away, Steve held him tighter, remembering how a hug had, at one time, led to the release of nearly all that was tormenting his own mind and heart.

"I know I've broken down in front of you so much, Son, and I've tried to let this go. Over and over, I've tried. But I can't."

Steve could hear the emotion in Nicholas' voice, knowing his dad was about to dissolve into tears. "But that's okay. It's okay for you to break down, Dad. It's hard for me, but I want to be here for you."

Nicholas turned his face into Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes. "It makes me sick, Son. Cause I- When she was abusing you-" He broke off, the self-hatred and regret nearly smothering his next words. "I was sleeping with her."

Steve cringed at the image the statement created, but didn't let go of Nicholas. "But you didn't know it was happening. It's not like you still did after you found out."

Nicholas squeezed Steve, grateful for the way his son looked at the admission. "But it still makes me feel like I betrayed you because we were-" Tears fell down Nicholas' face. "And at the same time, she-"

"You didn't betray me. Please don't even think that."

Nicholas' next words died on his lips, realizing the true depths of the way he was feeling had their roots in intimate details he couldn't reveal to his own flesh and blood.

"I knew you and Clara slept together, Dad. It's not something I ever thought about, but I knew." Steve pulled away from the hug and looked at Nicholas' face. "I also know that whatever went on didn't matter to you anymore once you found out the truth about what she was doing."

Nicholas drew in another deep breath, finding he feared another wave of panic could pull him under because there was no such simplicity to resolving the feelings in his heart. "It's not that I thought you didn't know. It's just- It's harder than what I'm telling you right now." Nicholas lifted a hand, wiping the tears that were still on his cheeks. "But you're my son, so there are some things I just can't say to you about this."

"I get it, Dad. I think I even understand too. But-" Steve's hand found its way to Nicholas', still seeking out the physical connection. "But what went on between you two, it doesn't mean anything. And you're not the one who abused me."

Nicholas nodded and squeezed Steve's hand, the words soothing him, as they quieted his emotions that had stirred up the anxiety.

"Please let it go, Dad. Forgive yourself for this too. I know it might not be that easy. So if you're struggling this much again, still come talk to me, even if you can't tell me all of it. I mean, I know it's different, but I do know what it's like when stuff keeps bothering you, like it could never stop. And maybe I'll never totally get rid of everything that hurts me, but it means a lot if I can help you through your pain too. I really think it helps me heal."

* * *

Lips pressed together in a tender kiss, as Vivian climbed into the bed beside Samuel. She started to switch off the lamp, then hesitated, the words coming from her mouth, before she could think them over anymore. "I want to have another baby."

Samuel froze, his head slowly moving back and forth. "Honey, I-I can't even think- I mean, I don't know what to say."

Vivian reached for Samuel's hand that rested on the blanket covering them. "Then, don't say anything yet. But I do. I've been thinking about it all the time."

* * *

_The unquenchable craving seared Clara's very being, knowing she couldn't fulfill it. Tonight's plan had veered off course. He won't say anything, she told herself. He doesn't even know what I was talking about._

_ Nicholas came in from the backyard. "Steve and Soda sure left in a hurry, didn't they?"_

_ Clara put a smile on her face, as Nicholas settled on the couch beside her. "They really did! I'm not sure why."_

_ "Steve likes it over there. The Curtises are great people. They love him too. So I can't say I blame him."_

_ "I like it when he's here with us though, and I thought he and Soda would stay here tonight, since he does go over there a lot. But I like Soda too. He's sweet."_

_ "Yeah. He's a good kid. Steve will be back tomorrow, and Soda will be around, as always." Nicholas put his arm around Clara. "So it's just me and you for right now."_

_ Clara put her head on Nicholas' shoulder, the smile never leaving her face, even as her gaze momentarily drifted down the hall to where Steve's bedroom was, her desires remaining. She tilted her head up to look at Nicholas. "I sure do enjoy being alone with you, my love. Even though I adore Steve more than you can ever know."_

* * *

A tear landed on Samuel's pillow, as he looked at Vivian, who was in a sound slumber next to him. "God, I want to give her what she wants. She should be a mother."

Leaving his wife to rest, Samuel slid out of bed, realizing his thoughts were much too active to allow him any sleep. He went down the hall and into the doorway of Matthew's old room, unable to keep from picturing it as belonging to another child. He looked at the wooden chest, imagining another child's hands playing with the toys inside. He looked down at his own hands and arms, thinking of holding another child, another who would also be their flesh and blood, their son or daughter. But still not Matthew, Samuel thought. So what would that mean for the little boy they'd had to bury?

He moved forward and sat down beside the wooden chest, keeping the room in darkness, unable to bear even the possibility of light. "God, Vivian should be a mother. She always has been." He lifted the lid of the chest, able to make out the shapes of the toys within, the physical evidence of Matthew's existence. "Would it be okay with you, buddy?"

Samuel let the lid close, his hand on the edge of it. "She should be a mom. She never stopped." He leaned his head on the chest, touching the memories it held, as he whispered his most painful thought for only the God of creation to hear. "But should I be a dad?" He closed his eyes, picturing the God he loved and trusted hearing every one of his echoing internal questions: How could I deserve to care for a child again? Why would you even want to let me?

* * *

Drops of water fell from Steve's hair onto his back and shoulders, as he started to dry himself off. Remembering his dad's panic attack from earlier, he held the towel over his face, taking in a long, deep breath that cleansed him of the fear he'd felt in those moments.

Steve let out the breath, as the towel fell to the floor, not allowing his gaze to drift down to the tile, just the sight of it enough to draw him back to the time he'd been afraid he would stop breathing forever.

After he finished dressing himself, Steve opened the bathroom door and went into the hall, stopping only when he came to Nicholas' bedroom. He poked his head inside, expecting to see his dad sleeping.

Yet, despite the late hour, the bed was empty.


	50. Chapter 50

_The desire for iniquity burned within Clara, Steve's words from earlier playing back in her mind. How dare he, she thought. How dare he say that to me! She made her way to his bedroom, her intentions even darker than usual when she lie down beside the young boy._

_ Clara leaned close to Steve's face, able to tell when he'd sensed her presence, even though he didn't open his eyes. "How dare you say such a thing." She let her hands slide under the covers, then underneath his pajamas, silent until her yearning for power made her speak again, her voice sweet despite the cruelty. "That must feel good."_

_ Clara reached for Steve's hands, stroking them at first, reveling in this bit of control, as Steve's voice came into her ears, the sadness and desperation in it making her want more. "Please stop."_

_ Never one for obedience, Clara only pulled Steve's hands closer to her body. "Just do what I say."_

_ Steve's whimpering did nothing to stop what was happening, even as he tried to pull away, not wanting his hands to go where Clara was forcing them to go. "I don't want to."_

_ Clara let go of Steve, watching as his fingers shook, immediately gripping the pajamas that covered him. She smiled at him, as she pushed the blanket aside. "You're so sweet, Stevie."_

_ Steve's eyes opened, his head turning, trying to burrow into the pillow, as Clara kissed him, her hands still wandering._

_ Clara inched closer to Steve, her lips tingling. She saw his eyes close, as she pressed on, making their bodies touch one another, her heart twisting in a sick passion, as she savored the moments of vengeance._

* * *

The temptation stared him in the face, the brown liquid inviting him to consume it.

He lifted the glass, able to taste the burning bitterness without even taking a single sip. He breathed in the scent, feeling a stinging sensation in his nostrils, imagining the numbness that could claim him if he only gave in to the enticing urge.

* * *

Puzzling thoughts circled in Steve's mind, as he stared at the empty space beside his own car. "Where the hell did he go this late? And why wouldn't he at least tell me?"

Steve paced the kitchen, his bare feet walking along the cold tile, concerned over Nicholas' possible whereabouts. "He's never done this before."

Thinking of the panic attack Nicholas had earlier, the distress he'd experienced, as well as the struggle he'd revealed only in part, Steve picked up the phone. He dialed Samuel's number, expecting an answer groggy with sleep, if he got one at all.

Samuel's voice came on the line. "Hello?"

Steve spoke quickly, fearing he shouldn't have called so late. "It's Steve. Have you heard from my dad? He's not in his room. His car is gone and-"

"Woah. Slow down, Steve. No, I haven't heard from him. He just left without telling you anything?"

"Yes! I'm sorry for calling you so late, but it's the only thing I could think of because he was really upset earlier tonight. Like panicking and crying."

"It's fine that you called me. Really. I was awake anyway."

"I'm scared too. Maybe I shouldn't be, but he's never done this before. He's never just left, especially since I've needed him a lot at night."

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm sure he had a good reason."

"I just don't know why he wouldn't tell me. He was so upset earlier too, and I don't know, it kind of shook me up."

"Just try to relax. I'm sure he doesn't want you to worry. He'll be back. I know he will."

* * *

_The world seemed to shift, tilting on its axis, as Clara heard Nicholas' voice take over the darkness of the room. "What is going on? Clara, get away from him!"_

_ Clara moved away from Steve, channeling her inner charm, even as she could feel the anger that had overcome Nicholas. "Nothing! He just had a nightmare! I was comforting him."_

_ "Bullshit! Get out of my house! Don't ever come near me or my son again!"_

_ Clara, appalled at the very idea of having to leave, looked at Steve, seeing he had curled up on the bed, crying even more than he had already been. She raised her voice, trying to protest. "But, Nicholas!"_

_ Nicholas moved forward, going closer to Clara. "Shut up and get out! I can't believe I ever let you near my kid. You're sick, Clara!"_

_ Clara stared into Nicholas' eyes, the rage in them enough to silence her. She backed away from him, alarmed to imagine the harm this man could do, believing she'd hurt his child. She ran from the room, her heart already scrambling to decide where to go and the way to turn the tide of the situation in her favor._

* * *

Headlights shone on the Randles' driveway, and Steve bolted out the front door, his bare feet hardly even feeling the cold ground, as he went toward Nicholas' car. "Dad, where did you go? Why would you just up and leave?"

Nicholas slid out of the car, reality attempting to sink in, as he took in Steve's presence. "I'm sorry, Son. It's nothing. I just went out."

"Out? You went out?"

Nicholas closed the car door and walked toward the house, Steve on his heels, as he went inside. "Yes. I thought you were asleep, honestly."

"I kind of was for a little bit, but I woke up and took a shower. Just to try to relax me. But then, I looked in your room, and you weren't there. Where did you go?"

Nicholas hung up his jacket, then sat down to take off his shoes. "Nowhere, Son. Everything's fine."

"Don't lie to me, Dad. And it's not fine. Don't say it's fine when I was worried about you!"

Startled by Steve's raised voice, Nicholas reached for his arm, guiding him into the chair beside him. "I'm so sorry, Son. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You said it's nothing. It's not nothing. It's not fine. Why would you leave? I wasn't just worried, Dad. You really scared me."

"I'm okay, Steve. I promise. Nothing happened, and you don't need to be scared. I'm here now."

"I keep asking, but you won't answer me. Where did you go?"

Nicholas let out a heavy sigh, battling with the truth. "I don't want you to be mad at me, Son."

"I won't be. Not if you just tell me."

Nicholas licked his lips, looking away from Steve. "I wanted to have a drink."

"A drink? Dad, it's been months. Why would you- How could you-" Steve found himself unable to finish the questions he had, settling for staring at Nicholas, still waiting for more of an explanation.

Unable to bear the disappointment in Steve's expression and tone, Nicholas stood up, turning away from him. "But I didn't do it. I didn't even take a sip. It was like I wanted to. But I couldn't."

"It's cause of what you were talking about earlier, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Steve got to his feet and went to Nicholas' side. "You could've come to me, you know. That'd be better than just leaving and-"

"No. I couldn't."

"But you could, Dad. I told you-"

"I know what you told me, and I appreciate it, Son. I truly do. But I can't do that."

"Telling me you want to drink because of how you've been feeling is a lot better than leaving late at night and not telling me anything."

"I didn't mean for you to know about that."

"But I do, Dad! And you scared me! You don't seem to get it. I'm not even upset you almost drank. I'm upset that you left. Even when you used to drink, you never did that!"

"I do get it, Son. And I'm sorry." Nicholas reached for Steve's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "It's late. Why don't we both just go to bed? We can talk more tomorrow."

"No. I want to talk now."

"What else can I say, Son? I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I scared you. But I came home. Nothing happened."

Steve made his way over to the couch and sat down, silent until Nicholas followed suit. "It's not nothing. The night you've had, it's a lot more than nothing."

"That's not what I meant. I meant nothing happened while I was gone. I didn't drink. I left and came back. That's it."

"I wish you would've just talked to me cause when I opened the door, and your bed was empty, and I saw your car was gone-"

Nicholas stood up once more, pacing as he snapped. "And told you what, Son? That it's haunting me because I enjoyed sleeping with the woman who sexually abused you? That I liked it when she touched me? It makes me sick to know there had to be nights we had sex in my bed, before she'd sneak off and climb into yours!"

Steve swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. "Oh."

Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead, his feet now still. "Damn it. I shouldn't have said that to you."

"But if it's true, and it's what's bothering you then..."

Nicholas took in Steve's pained expression and went to sit back down beside him. "But I still shouldn't have. I know that must've been hard for you to hear."

"I mean, it's nothing I guess I didn't already know because of course you-" Steve stumbled over his words, wanting his dad to hear this, but not wanting to repeat any part of what he'd just heard. "Of course, you did. But, like I said before, you didn't know. So please don't feel bad about it. Please."

"Thank you, Son. For saying that." Nicholas pulled Steve into his arms, needing to hold him tight. "For being here for me too. For everything tonight."

* * *

_The white sheet hovered in the air, before landing on the guest bed. Grace put a folded pink blanket and a pillow on top of it, before turning back to Clara. "There you go. I think it'll help you to get some sleep. Maybe things will be better in the morning, and you can even give Nicholas a call."_

_ Clara nodded in agreement, as she settled on the bed, the material of her yellow nightgown brushing against the sheets. "Maybe you're right. I am tired, after all. I don't think he'd listen to me though." She could feel tears well in her eyes. "But I'll be all right. It's not like I haven't lost anyone before."_

_ Grace turned off the light, as she saw Clara unfold the blanket and lie down. "Of course you'll be all right. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."_

_ "Good night." Clara's head rested on the pillow, as Grace closed the door behind her. She touched the tears that were now on her cheeks, as she reminded herself that they couldn't be real. The grief she'd put on display for Grace when she arrived was merely for show, to distract her friend from the path to the truth._

_ Clara sat up on the bed, the pink blanket wrapped around her, as she pondered the night. "But I didn't do anything bad. I was just loving him. I was giving him what I never got, what I can't give my Christopher." I didn't do anything wrong, she thought. I don't feel guilty. I can't feel guilty._

_ Clara felt an ache rise inside her, one she couldn't identify. "No. I'll start over, like I did before. I'll find another man to call my own. Another sweet little boy too." I'll do it all again, she thought. I just won't get caught this time._

* * *

The wrench gripped the bolt underneath the hood, Soda's hand turning it until it was tight. "Well, at least he didn't drink, Stevie."

Steve opened the toolbox on the garage floor, rummaging through it. "I know, man. I know. Believe me, I'm so glad about that. Because I don't want him to fall into that again or beat himself up over it."

Soda, wrench still in hand, leaned against the car's front end. "But?"

Steve looked up from the toolbox, unable to keep from meeting Soda's eyes. "But when I saw his bed was empty, when I realized he really wasn't there at all, it did something to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I was scared. I'm not sure what I thought, but it bothered me a whole lot."

"Did you tell your dad that?"

"Yeah. But I didn't really get a chance to explain it. I'm not sure if I even know how."

"You should talk to him again then."

Steve picked up a screwdriver, turning it over in his hands. "This is going to sound weird, but I think I was afraid he left and wasn't coming back or something."

"You thought something might happen to him?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Or even that he just wouldn't come home." Steve walked back over to the car, looking under the hood, before he began to tighten a loose screw. "It's bothered me before to think I could lose my dad, so when he was just gone, and I didn't know why, I guess it brought that fear back again."

* * *

_A ringing telephone tried to rip Clara from her musings, but she ignored it, pulling on a borrowed button up shirt, as she contemplated her options._

_ She looked around Grace's guest bedroom, noting the plainness of it, the lack of color and decoration. It held only the bed she's slept in and a small nightstand, the simplicity brightened by the window which had just a thin curtain hanging over it._

_ Clara buttoned the shirt and straightened the sleeves, the heart in her chest beating in utter conflict. No, nothing bothers you, she told herself. You still hold all the power._

* * *

Steve's eyes fluttered open, as he shifted, still clad in his DX uniform. He then sat up, the nap he'd taken providing only slight relief from the fatigue of being up late the night before. He yawned, his eyes closing once more, as he laid his head on the back of the couch.

Nicholas came in from the kitchen and looked at Steve dozing, the sight making him sigh. "I'm sorry I kept you up late, Son."

Steve opened one eye. "Quit apologizing, Dad. You've done enough of that."

"But it's true. I really am."

"I know. But I'm just glad you're here."

Nicholas pondered their conversation from the night before that had bordered on an argument, Steve's distressed words coming back to him once again. "Did I miss something?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I might have been so caught up in what I was feeling last night that I didn't really listen to what you were saying."

Steve's head lifted up, as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't think you could have. And I never actually got it out anyway."

When Steve moved his feet to make space for him, Nicholas sat down on the couch. "I know when I said what I did, you were about to tell me something. You kept saying I scared you, and that hasn't left my mind, Son."

"Cause you did, and yeah, I was about to tell you something. Not really anything different, but I guess I wanted- No, I needed to at least try to explain. But you probably needed to get what's been bothering you off your chest even more. So it's okay."

"I'm still so-"

"Stop it, Dad! Please. I know that. I know you're sorry. Could you get out of your own head for just one damn minute?"

"Yes. I can. I'm listening now, Son. What were you trying to tell me?"

"You know what? Never mind." Steve stood up, beginning to walk away, as he was not yet certain of the burst of anger trying to build within him. "I don't feel like doing this."

Nicholas followed Steve out to the front porch, watching as his son leaned his elbows on the railing, his eyes on the yard. "Okay. We don't have to talk about it anymore. I really thought you needed to."

"I'm not mad at you, Dad. So don't think that. I'm just still kind of tired and stuff. That's all."

Nicholas didn't reply, as he sat down on the porch swing, choosing to be silent and let Steve lead.

"I know you wouldn't leave me or anything like that, but..."

But what? Nicholas wondered. Why is he even thinking- His eyes widened, recalling the beginning of Steve's last statement the previous night, before he himself had blurted out the reasoning behind his own shame.

"You weren't in your bed. Your car wasn't here. I don't know what I even thought. I just didn't like how it felt."

Nicholas held his silence, also remembering how Steve had expressed fear that he could lose him somehow or even push him away.

"I didn't know where you were or why you left or when you were coming home." Steve moved away from the porch railing and perched on the edge of the swing. "Or_ if _you were coming home."

Nicholas fought the urge to apologize yet again, realizing that wasn't what Steve needed to hear. "Of course, I was coming home, Son." He lifted a hand to stroke the back of his son's head. "I'll always come home."

* * *

_The reflection stared back at Clara, as she studied her own face. She looked hard into her green eyes, drinking in her features that she knew made her a beauty unlike any other. "There's nothing wrong with you. What they say isn't true."_

_ Clara ran her fingers through her blond hair, smiling in spoke of the voices echoing inside her unraveling mind. "No, you're not sick. You know the best way to show love. They just don't understand." _

_ Her green eyes narrowed, anger that had stowed away decades ago coming to the forefront, as she looked away from the mirror. "It's just because you never got any love. You were only in the way."_

_ Clara lifted her eyes back up to see her reflection and imagined her face much younger, that of a ten year old little girl. She began to laugh, the maniacal sound not one of amusement. "Oh. But no one will ever forget me now. I've made sure of it."_

* * *

A page turned in the Bible, Steve's eyes reading the verses of a Psalm he'd only seen once before, the light from his lamp shining upon it: "The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

Steve easily remembered when he'd last read this Psalm, caught within feelings of rejection and the cycling of suicidal thoughts that were still a secret. He read the next verse, drawing the greatest meaning out of it: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

Steve touched the page, the shadows of his fingers moving along it, as they brushed over the scripture he'd just read. You are with me, he thought. You were with me, even when I believed I wanted to die. You were with me when I was a kid too.

He looked at the margins, finding Rose's notes, his mom's handwriting not as painful to see as it once had been: "He gives me life. He gives me rest. Even in darkness, I am comforted."

Steve felt a small smile cross his face. Thank you, Mom, he thought. Thank you so much for writing that. I like to think you're always with me too, even though I know you're in Heaven. He was still staring at Rose's words when Nicholas sat down beside him on the bed. "I got so mad the last time I read this page, Dad. Well, I thought I was mad anyway, but now, I guess I was just really hurt."

Nicholas recalled Steve's questions about God and his demeanor at the time. "You seemed like you were still keeping a lot inside then, Son. Even while you were talking and asking the questions that you did, I could see it."

"That's cause I was. Or trying to anyway. I was upset about Evie and everything, but I also felt like I could go crazy because the suicidal thoughts were really damn bad. I remember asking Soda to stay with me because I knew I shouldn't be left alone, but I just couldn't make myself tell him why. I couldn't imagine saying it to anybody yet. It was like every part of me hurt."

Nicholas' memory drew him back into the moment when Steve had first told him he had thoughts about killing himself, knowing now that the fear and sadness he'd experienced then had been only the beginning. "I know that was hard to talk about, Son. And I hate that you ever had to handle it by yourself."

"But I was never by myself, Dad. Not even when you didn't know. You were still here for me. You and Soda and Laura. Evie too, even with what we were going through. I wasn't alone at all. If I had been, I might not have ever told anyone at all."

"That's scary to think about."

"Yeah. It is. Cause you did know. And I still- I did it anyway." Steve looked down at Psalm 23 once more, the phrase "shadow of death" jumping out at him this time, as he flipped the pages of the Bible beneath his fingers. "But I would've been a lot worse."

Nicholas wrapped an arm around Steve, understanding all too well the implication of his words. "Yeah. I know it would have."

Steve closed the Bible, the truth of his statement making him want to say more, despite the inherent difficulty. "I would've died, Dad. I really believe that."

Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat, holding back the tears that formed in his eyes, as he kept Steve close to him. "It hurts me to hear you say that, Son."

"It hurts me to think about it, but I feel like if I hadn't said anything, I would've tried to kill myself sooner. You already know that if Soda hadn't come over the first time I was thinking about taking the pills, I might've done it then, and I think I wouldn't have called you for help."

Nicholas imagined Steve sick, and possibly dying, from an overdose, while he himself remained completely unaware his son even had thoughts of suicide. He felt one tear slide down his face, this scenario one that would've created a even bigger sense of helplessness.

Steve leaned back against the pillow on his bed, but put his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "I don't think I would've called you soon enough anyway. It was so hard for me to admit I even thought about taking the pills. It would've been a lot harder to tell you if you didn't know I was feeling that way at all and then I overdosed."

Nicholas closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Steve's. "That was the scariest phone call I've ever gotten, Son. But I'm so very thankful for it."

Steve felt his mind stir, the words he'd spoken evoking memories that had only just begun to rest. "Dad, if I tell you something, could you just let me say what I need to and not ask any questions?"

"Okay. I'll just let you talk."

"I have flashbacks of when I overdosed."

Nicholas started to speak, a question wanting to come out, but he held his tongue, instead choosing to rub circles on Steve's back, a way to soothe him, as he talked through this.

"I told Samuel about them. I told him about everything I remember. I guess I needed someone who wouldn't have as hard of a time listening to that, as I know you or Soda would. But I knew he'd still care and listen and be there for me."

"All right. I'm glad you didn't keep it to yourself."

"It wasn't easy to talk about those memories, but it felt good to say all of it because I hadn't told anybody what exactly happened. I mean how or where, any of that kind of stuff."

Nicholas remembered how he'd found the ripped up paper, the Coke can, and the empty medication bottle in Steve's car, able to piece together some of the details his son had left unspoken. "As much as I want to hear everything, I think I understand why you haven't told me about all of it, but if you ever do want to-"

"I know, Dad. I know you'd listen." Steve lifted his head off of Nicholas' shoulder and looked at him. "I don't want you feeling guilty again, okay? That's one reason I didn't tell you I had those flashbacks at all. I don't want you to feel bad anymore."

Nicholas still had an arm around Steve and gave him a squeeze. "I'm getting better about that. Don't worry. What's the other reason?"

"What I was just talking about. I thought if I told you, everything about the memories in my head might just spill out, and I know that would hurt you." Steve shifted to lie down on the bed, facing away from Nicholas. "But I guess I was afraid you might push me too."

"Push you how, Son?"

"I swear it's not a bad thing, but I thought you might try to push me into telling you about those memories. Like you did before, to get me to talk about the abuse. But that was different cause it's what I needed then."

"I'm not going to push you. I promise. Because I know you're okay, and you said you told Samuel about it. I want to know what's bothering you, of course, but I won't force you to tell me anything."

Steve turned over, giving his dad a small smile. "Thank you. Not just for that. But for everything. I know I've said it before, but I'm telling you again. Thank you for being here for me." He reached for Nicholas' hand, resting his own on top of it. "And for just being my dad."

* * *

_The path circled back around in Clara's mind, her thoughts becoming distressed, as she stared at the coffee maker that was brewing a fresh pot. The brown liquid dripped into the glass container, as time passed by, recent events making her think of the past she hated._

_ No, Clara told herself. It doesn't matter. You didn't need your parents then. You don't need anyone now. She felt the once impenetrable wall she'd built failing in the face of disapproval and loss, as she desired affection she could no longer attain. She felt the want for intimacy rise, as the blurred and twisted lines she'd created made her drift off into the fantasy of control. That's all I want, she thought. What's so bad about that? What's so bad about showing them I love them?_

_ The coffee maker continued to fill the pot, and Clara touched the glass, feeling the heat against her skin. Nathan and my father just didn't understand, she thought. Christopher loved me too. It made him feel good. I know it did. She pulled away from the heat, a burn searing her fingers. I made Steve feel good too, she told herself. He liked it even better than Christopher. Nicholas just wanted to hurt me._

_ Clara looked down at her fingers that were red from touching the hot pot of coffee, the skin stinging. How dare they, she thought. How dare they all think they can control my life like this! How dare they make me leave just because I-_

_ She stopped her thought, changing the track. I didn't do anything wrong, she told herself. I wouldn't do a thing like that. They don't even know what they saw. Nathan shouldn't have taken my Christopher from me, then I wouldn't have had to find another man or little boy. _

_ Clara touched the burns, the raw, red skin still stinging. It's my father's fault, she thought. All he ever did was hurt me and my mother. And she didn't protect me! So I had to take control. I had to love Christopher and Steve, so they'd love me back!_

_ She turned away from the now full fresh pot of coffee, still rubbing the burns she'd let it create. She walked over to the newspaper on the table, seeing she'd left it open to the obituaries. She turned the page, finding the section with available jobs. "Help Wanted," the ads read in bold black print._

_ Clara stared at the word "wanted," letting her burned fingers brush over it. I've never been that, she thought. No one wants me. They didn't love me back. How dare they!_

_ She backed away from the newspaper, the burns on her skin stinging even more, as she felt the heart in her chest searching and longing. No one will ever hurt me again, she told herself. They won't have the chance._

_ Clara turned, her eyes scanning the counter in Grace's kitchen, imagining the pain she could create. She laughed at the control she was going to maintain, the sound mimicking that of when she'd been staring at her own reflection in the mirror._

_ She opened a drawer that held silverware, eyeing the handles of the sharp knives. I'll hurt myself, she thought. But no one else will. No one will ever say those terrible things about me again. They'll never tell me I should feel bad. Clara picked up one of the knives, running a finger over the silver blade. No one will be able to take anything from me anymore. She pressed the blade against her hand, feeling how sharp it was, making blood instantly appear. She smiled at the red liquid, as it dripped down her arm. There won't be anything to take from me, she told herself. Because I'll be dead, and this will all be over._

* * *

Evie's voice drifted into Steve's ear, as he made his way across the school parking lot. He stopped beside his car, turning his head to see her a few spaces down, talking to Kenneth. He watched, as she kissed him on the cheek, lifting a hand to touch his own face, remembering the feel of her lips on his skin.

As Steve turned away from the sight, he took his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the Ford. The door had just popped open when he heard footsteps and looked over his shoulder to see Evie behind him. "Oh. Hey."

Evie smiled at Steve, watching him put his backpack in the car. "I guess I just wanted to say hi. And I was kind of wondering how you're doing."

Steve leaned back against the car, his hand on the open driver's side door. "I'm doing all right, really. I've been figuring out a lot about things and, you know, working through it. It helps that people seem to be over talking about me and you. Hearing that kind of stuff stressed me out more."

"I'm really sorry about that, Steve. It was so unfair to you."

"Well, I know you didn't start the rumors, and it wasn't exactly fair to you either."

"Yeah. But I haven't been through all that you have."

Steve sighed, as he looked down at the pavement. "That's true. So how are you?"

"I'm good, actually." Evie glanced back to where Kenneth's car had been minutes before. "I know you've seen me with him, but-"

Steve's eyes drifted up to meet Evie's. "You don't have to explain anything. You have a right to date or do whatever you want."

"Thank you for that. I don't think it's anything serious. We've been going out though, and I like him."

Steve gave Evie a grin, even as he looked back down at the pavement. "That's good. I want you to go out and have fun. You deserve that, Evie. You deserve to be happy, no matter what."

Evie put her hand on Steve's arm, holding onto it, as her eyes caught his gaze. "You do too, Steve, and you deserve to feel better. You're a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. You'll always be my first love, but it's more than that because you'll always be my friend too, and you deserve to find all the peace you need to live your life."

* * *

_ The clock on the wall ticked, as Clara slid the knife down her arm, cutting into the flesh. The blood started to pour out, falling onto the pink blanket Grace had put on the guest bed, soaking through to also stain the white sheets. She made a similar cut on her other arm, savoring the disconnection from reality and the lack of pain._

_ Clara watched the blood flow, imagining the threat of despair draining out of her body, the guilt that had yet to get a solid grip drowning in the sea of her impending death. She let the knife drop to the floor, a feeling of dizziness accompanying the numbness that had begun to envelope her entire being, as she held her eyes open and looked at the clock. She saw the seconds tick by, as time took over._

* * *

The wind blew on Steve's face, as he opened the door to the drug store. He stepped inside, letting it close behind him. What the hell am I doing? he thought. A clerk greeted him, as he passed by, heading to a familiar aisle. He stopped in front of the shelf that had a sign above it, reading "pain relief." Steve almost laughed at the irony, thinking of how he'd attempted to relieve his emotional pain with a bottle of pills, only succeeding in creating even more. Why am I here? he asked himself, as he picked up a bottle identical to the one he'd held the day he overdosed.

Steve turned the bottle of medication over in his hands, hearing the rattle of the pills inside, as he read the print on the label and realized he didn't have the desire to take them.

The destructive temptation he'd once given into no longer had a grip on him.

* * *

The moon shone down on the Curtis' front porch, three quarters of it illuminated, the rest hidden beneath a shadow.

Steve felt the wind blow on his face, its coolness and gentle touch a reminder of so much more than the season or time. A calmness washed over him, the memories he'd always carry very much present, though they were now tucked into the back corners of his mind, no longer waiting to spring at any given moment.

Soda, curious about the expression on Steve's face, put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

Steve's eyes filled with tears, as he smiled. "Yeah. I am."

"Are you sure?"

Steve's gaze met Soda's, his words ringing true. "Yeah. I'm okay, buddy. I really am."

A/N I always get a very bittersweet feeling with story endings, but with this one, it was beyond that! I actually cried, then I felt like I had to give myself time to absorb it and accept it before I could post this chapter. I'm so sad to finish this, but also so happy at the same time.

But it's not over for Steve or any of them! I'm working on the next story, where the journey takes a whole other turn! It's called "Masked Reflections," and so far, I'm a bit over halfway through a first chapter. Thank you for reading!


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